


Zero Percent

by kopperblaze



Series: Hobo!verse [1]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Community: bandombigbang, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-07
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-09 08:52:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 43,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kopperblaze/pseuds/kopperblaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They sit in silence while Frank smokes. A group of primary school kids walk by, all in pairs, holding hands and wearing bright vests and tiny backpacks. Mikey spots one with a Batman design. The children stare at them curiously while the teachers look disdainful, shuffling them along quickly, away from Mikey and Frank, who've got no places in brightly colored, child-friendly worlds.</p><p>or: the AU in which Frank is homeless and the Ways prostitutes</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zero Percent

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: violence, prostitution, sibling relationship, drug dependency, mentions of daddy!kink in one scene (will be marked and can be skipped), (brief) cruelty towards an animal
> 
> Notes: I need to thank a lot of people who helped this story along. To and who held my hand from start to finish, encouraged me, allowed me to email them my crazy ideas and cheered me on. Without you guys I could've never done this, thank you so much. To for the excellent beta and to everyone on Twitter who cheered me on and endured my whining. Thank you all ♥
> 
>  
> 
> Extras: 
> 
> [ Artwork by darling_lisa](http://kopperblaze.livejournal.com/222135.html)
> 
> [ Mix by morganya](http://kopperblaze.livejournal.com/222268.html)

The woman in line behind Frank keeps a pointed distance, fidgeting and eyeing him from beneath her bangs. Frank's used to that kind of behavior but it still makes him pull his shoulders up higher, hunch more into himself in an attempt to hide from the stares and sneers. He feels exposed in the sterile light.

"4.85," the bored cashier drawls, snapping her gum and inspecting her nails. Frank hands over 4.90 in change and picks up the three cans of dog food. He wants to be out of here as quickly as possible. The girl drops five cents change into Frank's hand, carefully avoiding any contact.

Frank gives her a bright grin. "Fuck you very much."

He hates trips to the supermarket.

Zero is waiting outside, a scruffy little bundle of fur, lying with his head on his paws. When he spots Frank he scrambles to his feet and yaps excitedly.

"Hey, buddy," Frank smiles and leans down to scratch behind Zero's ears before he unwinds the leash from the hook in the wall. "Dinner time, c'mon." Zero prances around as they walk down the street and Frank focuses on that, because it's easier to laugh at his ridiculous dog than acknowledge the people around him.

Frank's only belongings, a ratty blanket and a plastic bottle he keeps refilling in public restrooms, are stored behind a dumpster in a back alley. Frank used to have a guitar, and he'd made some money busking in underground stations where he was protected from the weather, but some asshole dealer and his friend beat Frank up a few weeks ago and stole it, claiming he was scaring away customers. The underground station isn't safe anymore, so Frank sleeps on the streets these days, trying to find doorways or alleys that provide at least a little protection from the wind.

Spreading the blanket on the ground Frank sits down and slips the sling of the leash around his wrist as Zero squirms into his lap. Frank keeps him on the leash all the time because Zero is still a puppy with an overabundance of energy and a lacking sense of danger. He's also the only thing Frank's got left in the world and he'll be damned if he’ll lose him.

"Well, what do you want? Gravy chicken or steak?" Frank holds both cans out and Zero sniffs them, taking more interest in the right one.

"Chicken it is." Frank pulls the ring and opens the can and puts it on the floor for Zero, who scrambles out of his lap again and starts eating with gusto. Leaning back against the wall Frank watches him and ignores his own stomach cramping with hunger. Only a few more hours until the soup kitchen opens. Dorothy gives him extra portions and puts desert away for him whenever she can. Without the soup kitchen Frank is sure he would’ve starved by now.

Huddling into his clothes he prepares for another long, cold day.

~

The city is just waking up, people doing zombie dances to work as the sun comes up. It's a strange time of the day, a little like the Twilight Zone. Mikey finds it oddly comforting, the world turning into a place of order and business, dirty secrets creeping back into corners.

Today is one of the lucky days where Gerard and he get to stay in a motel. They made good money because one of the clients had special requests, earning them enough to afford a room and food, and leave some extra for other things. Gerard's already gone ahead to get them a room at the usual motel while Mikey got them McDonald's. There's nothing better than hot, greasy food early in the morning.

The paper bag crinkles when Mikey tightens his hold and walks a little faster, not wanting the food to go cold.

When he rounds a corner he stumbles over a furry something on the ground. Mikey comes to an abrupt stop and sways on his feet. The furry thing turns out to be an overly excited dog, yapping and attempting to climb Mikey's leg.

"Zero!"

A man, no a boy Mikey amends as the person gets closer, is running towards him, looking frantic. He’s bundled up in layers of clothing and despite the hood pulled up over his hair Mikey can make out pale skin, gaunt cheeks and wide eyes.

The guy stops in front of Mikey, panting, and scoops the dog up. "I'm sorry," he mumbles, not meeting Mikey's eyes. He briefly glances at the bag of food in Mikey's hand before he turns to the dog.

"You fucking scared me. Don't run away like that." He leans down and presses a kiss to the dog's head. "Thanks for, uh, stopping him. And sorry he jumped you," he says to Mikey, his stance a little more defensive, waiting for the blow. Mikey recognizes the attitude of someone damaged and down on his luck.

"No worries." His voice comes out flat and Mikey knuckles at his eyes. He's so goddamn tired. "Better keep an eye on him."

The guy nods and hunches into himself even more, protecting the dog from the wind that's picking up. Mikey stands there for a few more seconds before he waves awkwardly and continues on his way. If he's lucky the food is still going to be semi-warm.

~

Frank cradles Zero closer to his chest and rests his cheek on the dog's head. It's early, a bad time to be sitting in the streets with a battered plastic cup in front of you. Mid-morning is always better because people are in less of a hurry, more likely to give Frank spare change.

It used to be easier back when Frank still had his guitar. It felt less like begging. He made more money as well. A punk kid with a guitar is more likely to get attention than a quiet, dirty guy doing nothing. But Frank needs all the money he can get, so every day he sits down, plastic cup in front of him, and tries not to think too hard about when exactly he sold his pride for a dollar.

Frank blinks against the tiredness weighing him down. He wants to sleep. Fuck, he would sell his soul for a bed to curl up in, even if it was for just one night. He's so tired, but he can’t allow himself to fall asleep. No way.

"I'm just resting my eyes," Frank grumbles when Zero starts squirming against his chest and licking his chin. The dog's a bundle of warmth. It's a little like having a mini-radiator.

Forcing his eyes open Frank squints against the light and scratches behind Zero's ears. Two pairs of legs clad in too tight jeans stop in front of him and Frank sighs. Probably some stupid hipsters again, here to make fun of him or give him a look of pity that makes him want to smash their perfect teeth in. Zero starts squirming even more, but Frank's got a good hold on him and has his the leash wrapped around his wrist several times. There won't be a repeat of yesterday. Frank still can’t shake the nightmare visions of Zero getting run over by a car.

Frank looks up, ready to glare at whoever is standing there and judging him, but does a double take when he recognizes the guy from yesterday standing next to a man with bright red hair. He's holding onto the sleeve of the other guy's tattered leather jacket murmuring something low enough that Frank can’t hear it over the traffic noise.

The other guy frowns down at Frank and Frank glares. Redhead quirks an eyebrow and is ready to walk away, but his companion tugs on his sleeve and holds him back, lips pursed. With a sigh redhead crams a hand into the pocket of his jeans and fishes out a crumpled five-dollar note. He bends down and puts it in the plastic cup, flashing Frank an uneasy smile. Frank blinks. _Five_ dollars? That's. That's a fucking lot.

He looks up again and the guy from yesterday is looking at him, the hints of an unsure smile in the curve of his lips. His eyes are tired and bloodshot, yesterday's eyeliner caked around them.

"Thanks," Frank croaks out, because he might be living on the streets but he's still got manners. He's rewarded with a more noticeable smile, and finds himself smiling back.

~

"You know that guy?" Gerard asks, reaching for the battered pack of cigarettes in the breast pocket of his jacket before thinking better of it. Those five dollars were their cigarette money and Gerard is far from happy that he had to part with it. But Mikey asked, and Mikey never asks for anything.

Mikey shakes his head and shrugs.

"No," he finally gives a verbal reply and scratches his neck. "But I thought. You know."

Gerard keeps looking at Mikey, prompting him to elaborate.

"I ran into him yesterday. He seemed hungry. And his dog is nice." The skin on Mikey's neck is turning red where he's still scratching. Gerard reaches out and takes his hand.

"Okay." It's a good enough reason and they can do without the five bucks. For them it's just a pack of cigarettes, but for the guy it'll be a hot meal or some other necessity. "There's a Starbucks around the corner." They've got a few hours to kill because the motel wanted a ridiculous sum for late check out that Gerard couldn't justify spending.

Mikey's hand is cold and clammy in his as they walk down the street, Mikey dragging his feet and Gerard trying to stay as far away from other pedestrians as possible.

Starbucks is busy, but most people are getting coffee to take away and they're able to get a booth in the corner.

"Be right back," Gerard mumbles and Mikey curls up in the seat closest to the wall and closes his eyes. The shadows underneath them look like bruises. Gerard forces himself not to linger on it and gets in the queue. He keeps his eyes on the floor and tries not to fidget as he waits. Gerard doesn't like being away from Mikey, even if it's just to get them drinks.

"Good morning. What can I get you?" The barista behind the counter is too enthusiastic and her smile too wide. Her nametag says 'Jane'. Gerard pushes strands of red hair away from his face and scans the menu board even though he already knows what he wants.

"A latte with two extra shots and a hot chocolate, please," he rattles off his usual order of coffee for himself and something sweet and comforting for Mikey. The sugar isn't exactly good for him, but caffeine would be even worse.

"Coming right up, honey." Jane grabs two cups and smiles at Gerard, sharpie in hand.

"What's your name?"

"James." Gerard gets a handful of coins out of his pocket and counts them while she scribbles on the cups.

"Busy day ahead, James?" Jane types his order into the register, still smiling. Gerard shifts under the attention, pushing money her way when the final sums blinks on the display.

"Kinda."

Her fingers brush against his when she takes the money and Gerard has to make a conscious effort not to grimace.

"Thanks. Here is your receipt. And here," she leans over the counter and starts to scribble numbers on the bottom of the paper, "is my number." Jane looks up at Gerard from under her lashes, smile turned coy. "Call me. We could, you know, grab some coffee together sometime or something. If you want."

Gerard forces himself to smile, but it feels like the corners of his mouth are cracking.

"Sure. If you've got two hundred bucks to spare. Time with me ain't cheap." Exhaustion and worry are taking their toll on Gerard’s nerves, making him snappy.

He grabs the receipt and moves along the counter to get his drinks, not looking back to see Jane’s reaction. It's either confusion or disgust and Gerard doesn't want to see either.

Once he's got their drinks he takes them back to table where Mikey sits, curled into himself and fidgeting with the sleeves of his hoodie. Gerard sets the cup down in front of him and falls down in the chair, not bothering to hide a huge yawn.

Mikey cracks a small smile and reaches for his hot chocolate, taking several tiny sips in rapid succession. Gerard knows his brother’s desperate for the hot chocolate to cut through the tangy taste of cocaine that's always there, sitting at the back of your throat. Gerard absently runs his tongue over his gums out of habit. His own mouth only tastes like stale cigarettes.

Humming over his hot drink Mikey seems content for the moment. He managed to sleep for a few hours last night and a little sleepiness is still clinging to him like pillow creases, softening him around the edges. The way he's fidgeting tells Gerard that it's not a state that is going to last much longer. Sighing he leans back and sips his coffee.

~

To Frank five dollars is a lot of money and he’s unsure how to spend it. For five bucks he could get food for Zero and something for himself from the McDonald's dollar menu. Then again, in a few hours the soup kitchen opens and Frank can get food there for free. No need to waste money. But maybe, maybe he'll indulge himself and buy a Snickers.

"We gonna go get you dinner a little later, all right?" Frank asks, smiling when Zero looks up at him with wide eyes before he puts his head back down on his paws and sighs deeply. Frank laughs and pats the dog's head.

"I know, buddy. Your life, so hard."

They sit for a while, Zero dozing and Frank watching people passing by with detachment. It feels like he's separated from the world by an invisible wall. Only a few people stop to put change into Frank's cup. He doesn’t have to look to know that it’s only nickels and pennies in there.

The back of his throat keeps itching and Frank hopes against hope that it's a passing sensation. At least it makes the decision what to spend his money on easier. A cup of tea at McDonald's is cheap and will hopefully help his throat.

"All right, let's go." Frank groans as he struggles to his feet, stretching his aching limbs. Zero is already dancing around his feet, but try as he might, Frank can't share his excitement at the prospect of a walk. He just wants to sleep.

Frank winds Zero's leash around his wrist a few more times and after he's stored the blanket and water bottle away behind a dumpster he slowly walks down the street, head down and shoulders pulled up.

There're too many people in the streets, a lot of school kids that are loud and point their fingers. Frank has given up on snapping at them a long time ago. He just quickens his steps, thinking about taking his tea to a quiet place where he can enjoy its warmth of without being bothered by anyone. It'll be beautiful.

Small groups of people are huddled together outside McDonald's and Frank stops, wrinkling his nose. He doesn't want to leave Zero out here with all of them. Frank knows he's being overly paranoid, but he's not going to take any chances.

"Hi."

Frank moves his head so rapidly that he thinks he's pulled a muscle. He's not used to anyone speaking to him, unless it’s to threaten him. Or possibly rob him. But nobody is going to rob him right in front of McDonald's with a ton of people around right?

"Hey," Frank replies faintly when he recognizes the guy from this morning. He's leaning against the wall, hands in the pockets of jeans so tight Frank can see the outline of his fingers. He's fidgety, eyes darting from Frank to the street corner and back to Frank.

"Getting some food?" _Again_ , Frank adds meanly in his mind.

"Nah," the guy shakes his head. "Just waiting for someone," he shrugs and scratches the bridge of his nose. "You?"

The way he's looking at Frank is unnerving. It's like he's being dissected and he pointedly doesn’t think about the fact that he's about to spend money he only got because the guy pitied him.

"Yeah. Just. . ." He holds up Zero's leash. The dogs been sitting at his feet, watching the exchange like a tennis match. Apparently he decides that this is his cue and yaps, bouncing over to sniff the guy's boots.

"Oh." The man looks down at the dog and his eyes soften a little. "I can. . . I can watch him if you want?"

He seems sincere, but Frank's encountered enough liars in his time.

"Thanks, but I'd rather, you know." He shrugs and looks away. It's stupid, he shouldn't give a flying fuck about what this guy thinks, but somehow he does.

"Sure, I get it." He doesn't sound angry, which surprises Frank. Usually people get upset when you distrust them.

"I could go inside for you though?"

Frank dares to look at the guy again. He got the five bucks from him earlier, so it's unlikely that he's going to steal it back.

"Uh, sure. If you don't mind, ah-"

"Mikey," The guy supplies.

"Mikey," Frank nods and transfers Zero's leash to his other hand, so he can hold the right one out to Mikey. "I'm Frank."

Mikey considers his hand for a few seconds before he reaches out. As far as handshakes go it's a weak one; Mikey's palm is clammy and his grip unsure.

"And this is Zero," Frank nods at the dog who's still sniffing Mikey's boot. Mikey looks down as well and actually smiles. But his expression drops back into a blank mask so quickly that Frank isn't sure if it was a trick of his mind.

"Should I get you something then?"

Frank nods and fumbles the crumpled bill out of his pocket. "Tea, please."

Mikey takes the money and says "Good choice," before he turns and enters the restaurant.

Frank bites his bottom lip and bounces on the balls of his feet. There is no reason to be anxious, it's not like Mikey is going to run away through the back door. Yet with each passing minute he gets more restless.

In Frank’s nervous state it seems to take ages until Mikey comes back, but when he does he hands Frank a paper cup and a fistful of change.

"Uh. . . thanks." The coins are slightly warm against Frank's palm and he stuffs them into the pocket of his jeans without counting.

Mikey shrugs casually, like he's running McDonald's errands for people all the time.

Before Frank can say anything else the redhead from the morning comes up to them, slightly out of breath and glancing between Frank and Mikey suspiciously.

"Hey." It comes out more like an inquiry than a greeting.

"Hi," Frank mumbles, already taking a step back and tugging on Zero's leash, trying to keep him from sniffing the redhead's boots.

"This is Frank," Mikey says and he and the other guy do the freaky eyebrow communication again they did earlier this morning. Whatever Mikey's eyebrows say must work because the redhead's stance relaxes.

"Hey Frank," he repeats, sounding friendlier this time.

Frank's lips twitch into a brief smile and he wiggles his fingers in an awkward wave. "Thanks again, for," he lifts the cup. "I'll better get going. I'll, uh, see you around."

Before the situation can get anymore awkward Frank turns and walks away.

~

Gerard doesn't say anything but Mikey’s skin prickles under his brother’s gaze.

"He couldn't go inside with the dog," he points out sullenly. At times Gerard's overly protective.

"Sure. All comes down to the dog, huh?" Gerard sighs. Mikey ignores his comment and rolls a piece of lint from his hoodie pocket between his fingers.

"Got everything?" he asks, licking his lips and trying not to fidget.

"Yep," Gerard nods. The twist of his lips betrays his lighthearted reply. It makes Mikey feel bad, bringing back the guilt that never leaves. It isn't fair of him to put Gerard through this, but Gerard refuses to get Mikey involved. Sure, it keeps things from getting out of hand, but it doesn't mean that Mikey likes it.

"Can I. . ." he trails off and kicks a pebble out of the way. It's a miserable day, damp air crawling through layers of clothing and settling on skin.

"It's a little early," Gerard points out, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "We could go eat something first? And if you take it then, it'll last longer."

This is what it always comes down to. Their days are not measured in hours, minutes, or sunsets and sundowns, but in intervals between Mikey's next hit.

Mikey considers, squeezing the piece of lint between fingers, nail of his index finger digging into his thumb.

"Yeah. Yeah okay." He can manage. He can totally manage, it'll only be half an hour, an hour tops. The tiny smile Gerard gives him is worth feeling like shit for a little longer.

~

"Here. Thought your dog might like something to drink."

Frank looks up to see a guy with an epic fro place a bowl of water in front of Zero. He’s seen him around a few times before, but they’ve never talked.

"Thanks man, appreciate it. So does Zero," Frank grins when his dogs starts to drink the water noisily and messily. "You're Ray, right?"

"Yeah." Ray doesn't meet Frank's eyes and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "How do you know?"

"Dorothy mentioned a Ray starting a few weeks ago, so I figured it was probably you," Frank explains between two forkfuls of mushroom risotto.

"I'm Frank." It only earns him a slightly uncomfortable smile from Ray.

"You like working here?" Frank doesn't know why, but some people make him want to talk. His mom used to make fun of him for it, telling stories of Frank as a kid, chatting up people on the bus and telling them about the kind of guitar he wanted and the chords he had learnt.

"It's good, yeah. Just volunteering for a few hours a week," Ray replies, head tilted to the side as he scratches his shoulder.

"Wow, nice thing to do." Frank tries not to feel inferior. Sometimes it's difficult, talking to the people at the soup kitchen. They're nice but something always comes up that makes Frank aware that they belong to different classes. 'Noble volunteer' ranks way higher than ‘hobo’.

Ray shrugs and takes a step back. "Enjoy your meal."

"Thanks." Frank focuses on his food, looking for the secrets of life in a bowl of risotto. Of course Ray doesn’t want to hang out with someone like him; Frank needs to fucking get over himself.

Frank stays at the soup kitchen for as long as possible, basking in the warmth of the room and listening to Dorothy telling him about her son while she cleans up.

"- his dad got him a guitar for his birthday. He loves it, but I'm seriously considering investing in some ear-plugs," Dorothy laughs, drying a pan and putting it away. Frank's grin is wistful as he remembers getting his very first guitar and playing it all day long. 

"He'll be a real rockstar soon."

"Oh dear, I sure hope not," Dorothy laughs, wiping down the counter. "Ray's giving him lessons. He's such a nice boy. Damian adores him as well, though they do play the most obscure songs. Something by a band called Metallic Maidens or something," she shrugs and Frank tries really hard not to crack up. "It's not my kind of music, you see, but Damian enjoys it and he's getting better, so whatever Ray does must be working."

"It's better if you start by learning songs that you like. It's more fun than just practicing random chords and all." Frank nods, ignoring the way his fingers itch. He can't feel calluses anymore when he rubs his thumb and middle-finger together.

Dorothy finishes cleaning up and tells Frank that she'll be right back, vanishing in the staff room. Frank zips his jacket back up and calls Zero over. The dog's been sleeping under one of the benches and looks less than thrilled as he trots over, glaring at Franks sleepily.

Frank coughs into his hand and tries not to shiver just thinking about the cold outside. It's going to be a long night and he can feel his nose starting to run. Maybe he'll spend another dollar on a cup of tea. Dorothy comes back winding a scarf around her neck and giving Frank a tired smile.

" Tomorrow is pizza day, you'll come and stop by, yes?"

"Wouldn't miss it for a thing," Frank smiles and takes Zero's leash, stepping outside and pulling his shoulders up higher immediately, trying to expose as little of himself to the cold as possible. Dorothy locks the front door before she turns.

"Good night, Frankie. Take care of yourself."

"Will do. See you tomorrow." Frank wiggles his fingers in a wave before he turns and walks down the street. It's fucking cold and he has no idea where to sleep tonight. It'll be freezing everywhere; hiding out in a back alley seems like the best option. At least he's going to be protected from the wind there. Zero's claws click against the pavement as he trots next to Frank. Neither of them looks up as a siren howls in the distance.

~

Gerard hates nothing more than the wait, the minutes that drag on and on until he's ready to crawl out of his skin. He always tries to score a double gig with Mikey, but it rarely works. The people who come to this part of town aren’t willing to spend a lot of money.

He also knows that Mikey is perfectly capable of looking after himself, but Gerard can't help it. He's the older brother, he's supposed to be the responsible one, the one to keep Mikey safe. Hell, back when he was five Gerard had solemnly sworn to their mom that he was going to protect Mikey, always.

It had been so much easier to protect Mikey from invisible dragons than it is protecting him from the world. Gerard has failed on all accounts. Instead of keeping Mikey safe he's landed him on the streets, hooking to finance an addiction that’s Gerard's fault in the first place. He deserves an award for shittiest brother in the universe.

The next drag of his cigarette tastes stale. The guilt is always there, but sometimes, in the lonely moments it gets overwhelming, when Gerard's got too much time to think, or when Mikey's eyes are wide with greed for another hit.

A silver Audi A3 pulls up and Gerard takes another quick drag before he flicks the cigarette butt to the ground. He's tempted to push away from the wall and stalk over, but that's not good street manners. Instead he stays rooted to the spot, his eyes glued to the car. What is it taking so long?

Eventually the door opens and Mikey stumbles out into the night, giving a quick wave to the person in the driver's seat.

They avoid eye-contact and Mikey casually walks over as the car drives away. Once it's turned a corner he leans in and presses a quick kiss to Gerard's lips as way of reassurance.

Mikey's lips are warm and Gerard doesn't think about the fact that he doesn't taste quite like Mikey.

"All right?"

Mikey nods, relaxing when Gerard wraps an arm around his waist.

"Yeah, pretty standard," Mikey mumbles. He's warm and relaxed against Gerard and just for a second Gerard wistfully thinks that he could feel the same. He could give in, let white, innocent powder take all his worries away.

Mikey is also a reminder why Gerard needs to stay sober. He’s going to be a good brother this time.

"'s late. Wanna get food?"

Mikey nods and bumps the cold tip of his nose against Gerard's neck before he pulls back.  
They hold hands all the way to the diner. It's one way of finding comfort.

Inside the light is too bright and Gerard closes his eyes for a few seconds. Dawn's breaking and the diner’s empty except for a tired waitress and a girl sitting in a corner, counting money. Gerard's seen her around before; he thinks she works at the stripclub around the corner.

Gerard and Mikey slide into a corner booth, the cheap PVC rubbing against their jeans. Gerard grabs one of the sticky menus and looks through it, bottom lip caught between his teeth. "Pancakes or waffles?"

Mikey shrugs. He doesn't care much for food and most days Gerard has to remind him to eat, occasionally even force him.

The waitress comes over, her steps heavy and tired. Strands of mousy-brown hair are escaping from her ponytail, falling into eyes with heavy bags underneath them. Her make-up is caked and creased in the corners of her eyes. Her smile is strained.

"Good morning. My name's Emma. What can I get you?"

"Two coffees and one breakfast special, please." Gerard closes the menu again and gives her a brief smile as she jots their order down. At her raised eyebrow he shakes his head. They'll share the food. Mikey never eats much and they don’t have money to waste on food that won’t be eaten.

"Coming right up, boys."

Gerard watches her go, trying to imagine what her story is. Maybe a single mom, working two jobs to try and cope. Or maybe once her shift is finished, she goes back to a home where husband and child are waiting for her. Or maybe she goes back to a tiny, cockroach-infested flat, haunted by the ghosts of the past. Maybe her children are grown up and gone already, calling her once in a while.

"Gerard." Mikey's voice pulls Gerard out of his musings. "I need to go to the bathroom."

Gerard looks evenly at Mikey, hoping against hope that for once the sentence doesn't carry any additional meaning. Mikey stares back at him, eyes wide. His feet are bouncing underneath the table, bumping against Gerard's every so often.

"Okay," Gerard finally replies. It comes out like a sigh. Emma has her back turned to them, pouring two cups of coffee, and the girl in the corner won't care. Gerard bends down and pretends to adjust his boots anyway, paranoia never leaving him.  
The small plastic sachet molds to his palm as he curls his fingers into a fist, sitting back up.  
Mikey is already half-standing, taking Gerard's hand. Gerard presses the sachet into Mikey's palm and his brother leans in for a kiss. It's a fluid, practiced transaction.

"Be right back." Mikey gives Gerard a tiny smile that Gerard forces himself to return.  
He watches Mikey go, a familiar feeling of dread curling in his stomach. Emma comes back to their table and puts two steaming mugs of coffee down. "Your food's gonna be right up and you just let me know if you want a refill."

Looking up at her Gerard tries to focus on her story, tries to map out her face so he can draw it later. Anything to distract him from what's going on in the bathroom.

"Thank you." It's heartfelt when he says it and Emma's smile is less strained this time.

~

"Hey, you need a hand?"

Ray is struggling with two stuffed garbage bags, trying to heft them into the container by the side door of the soup kitchen. Putting Zero’s leash down on the ground Frank puts his foot down on it to make sure his dog doesn’t run away again. Together Frank and Ray manage to push the bags into the container.

"Thanks," Ray pants, brushing a strand of curly hair away from his forehead. He's looking a little frazzled today.

"Stressful day?"

"Kinda. Just a long shift at work."

Frank isn't sure if he's projecting something on Ray or if he really says it with condemnation, like Frank's got no idea what it means to work and choose to live on the streets because it's a fucking holiday.

"Ah. Sucks, man," Frank's trying really hard not to be bitter, but there's a slight edge to his voice. Ray seems oblivious to it and leans against the brick wall, getting a pack of cigarettes and lighter out of the pocket of his jeans. With a mechanic _click_ the lighter flickers to life.

Frank tries not to stare as Ray takes a drag. He hasn't had a cigarette in ages.

Zero whines at the lack of attention and buts his nose against Frank's leg. Tearing his eyes away from the gleaming cigarette Frank shushes the dog, which earns him a glare before Zero walks in a circle twice and curls up with a sigh.

"You. . . want one?"

Ray's holding the pack of cigarettes out to Frank and all bitterness Frank might've felt goes flying out of the window, replaced by adoration. Ray is a saint.

"Fuck, yes. Thanks."

The tips of Frank's fingers are numb because it's fucking cold and he's only got fingerless gloves, so it takes a few attempts until he manages to pull one of the cigarettes from the pack. Putting it between his lips he leans in when Ray holds up the lighter.

The first inhale is wonderful and Frank actually moans as he exhales because fuck, this, this is so _good_. He doesn't even care that Ray is watching him like he's contemplating if Frank's a crazy person.

After a few seconds the silence between them starts to get uncomfortable.

"Dorothy told me you play guitar," Frank says after his next exhale, looking at Ray as he rubs Zero's leash between thumb and forefinger.

Ray nods. He still seems reluctant to share any kind of information with Frank, as if Frank is going to run with it and rob his apartment.

"Cool, me too. Well, I used to, anyway." Frank shrugs and looks down at the dirty concrete.

"I'm. . . sorry." Ray seems out of his depth, so Frank waves his hand in a dismissive gesture.

"Never mind. What kind of stuff do you play?"

Twenty minutes later Dorothy sticks her head out of the door and Frank and Ray are still in a heated discussion about punk shows in Jersey they've both been to and the quality of the bands' guitarists.

"Boys, get inside, it's freezing," she chides, rolling her eyes. "Frank, there's a blueberry muffin with your name on it, but if you don't want it. . ."

Frank takes a last, hasty drag from the second cigarette Ray handed him without a word and flicks the butt to the ground. "I do want it!" He doesn't care what he sounds like. It's a _blueberry muffin_.

"Thought so. Shoo, inside with you," Dorothy waves them in and Frank shuffles through the kitchen to the dining area, picking Zero up when he gets far too interested in everything in the kitchen, straining against his leash.

"I'll bring your food right out, honey. You just go and sit down," Dorothy smiles at him and Frank's suddenly got a knot in his throat that makes swallowing difficult. He really misses his mom.

"Thanks. 't was good talking to you, Ray," he adds and walks over to an empty table, sitting down and curling his upper body over Zero, burrowing his nose in the dog's fur. Zero seems to understand Frank's need for comfort and stops squirming, snuggling into Frank’s chest.

It's ridiculous. His mom has been dead for two years and Frank is _fine_.

"We're just fine, right?" he mumbles and Zero licks his hand.

~

Gerard is always reluctant to let Mikey wander off on his own, but there is no way Mikey is sticking around while Gerard pervs over art supplies he can't afford. He'd rather go and perv over CDs he can't afford.

They spent all morning in Starbucks, Gerard napping while Mikey watched people passing by outside. He wasn't tired, still isn't, his mind jumping from one subject to the next, eyes latching onto colourful window displays before he's immediately distracted by something else.  
It's why he stumbles, eyes focused on a flashy ad for a new musical on the side of a bus, and barely manages to regain his balance in time.

"Zero!"

Something squeezes between his feet and Mikey blinks down owlishly. The little dog from a few days before is there again, wagging his tail so it thumps against Mikey's leg and circling his feet, getting Mikey all wrapped up in the leash.

"Zero, what the fuck?"

And there is Frank again, scrambling to his feet and trying to untangle himself from a blanket. When he finally succeeds he drops the blanket to the floor with a frustrated noise before he looks up at Mikey. His eyes are bloodshot and the tip of his nose an angry red.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry," he says, flailing a little before he drops to his knees in front of Mikey and grabs the dog's collar, then starts untangling the leash from Mikey's legs. Mikey only feels slightly ridiculous.

"Really, I'm sorry." Frank gets back to his feet, Zero cradled in his arms. The dog is still wagging his tail happily.

"Don't worry about it," Mikey says. Usually he's annoyed when people so much as bump into him, skittish around everyone who isn't Gerard, but he isn't annoyed to see Frank. Or Zero.  
Reaching out Mikey carefully scratches behind Zero's ears. The dog pushes into the touch before he squirms and licks Mikey's fingers. Mikey's lips twitch into a grin.

"He likes you," Frank says, his own smile tentative and shy.

Mikey doesn't reply, but when Zero starts squirming again he reaches out and after raising a questioning eyebrow at Frank, takes Zero. He doesn't miss the way Frank keeps a hold of the leash.

Zero smells like wet dog and tries to crawl on Mikey's shoulder, licking his ear.

"Hey you," Mikey mumbles. As a kid he always wanted a dog, but never got one because their dad was allergic. As soon as the thought crosses his mind he pushes it away because it was in another time and another place and there is no use dwelling on it.

Zero's nose is wet against Mikey's neck and when Mikey looks up Frank is watching them like he's either going to make that terrible "awwww" sound or stomp his feet in jealousy.

"Usually he doesn't take to other people like that," he explains when he catches Mikey's eye with a sheepish smile. "And. . . that's kinda an understatement. He doesn't like people. At all."  
Mikey holds Zero a little tighter. He can relate.

"We're not people," he says quietly, avoiding Frank's eyes. Frank doesn't reply and Mikey pets Zero's back for a while longer before he reluctantly hands him back. It's ridiculous, but it was nice, holding a tiny, smelly bundle of warmth and Mikey already misses the weight in his arms.

"Sorry, didn't mean to hold you up." Frank takes his dog back and nudges his nose against Zero's neck.

"You didn't. I . . . I've got nowhere to be," Mikey shrugs.

"Oh." Frank bounces a little on the balls of his feet. It's freezing and Mikey jams his hands into the pockets of his worn coat.

"Where's your," Frank inclines his head.

"My what?"

"You know," Frank shrugs. "Redhead."

"Gerard? Looking at art stuff," Mikey shrugs and pulls his shoulders up a little higher.

"Nice. He an artist?" Frank is casting glances back at his crumpled blanket every now and then, like he's afraid that someone is going to steal it.

"He," the rest of the sentence dies on Mikey's lips and he worries his bottom lip between his teeth. "Yes." His voice comes out stronger than he wanted, like he needs to prove a point.

"Cool. What's he do? Paintings and stuff?" Frank seems genuinely interested.

"He. . . used to do lots of stuff."

"Oh. Not anymore?"

For a homeless guy Frank is kind of clueless and Mikey wonders just how new he is to still have that kind of naivety.

"Nah. Prostitution pays for lots of stuff, but not art supplies or a studio."

"Oh," Frank blinks, then his eyes widen. " _Oh_." Mikey's pretty sure he would've flailed if it hadn't been for Zero in his arms.

"I'm _sorry_."

Frank looks slightly flushed. How he could've missed it, Mikey has no idea. But maybe it's his jaded mind putting a neon sign above his head saying "Whore. Junkie. Trash." Maybe it isn't as obvious to everyone as he thinks it is. Or maybe Frank is too naïve for his own good.

"Nevermind," Mikey shrugs. He's still got some change in the pocket of his hoodie and Mikey idly wraps his fingers around the coins. If he gives them to Frank, is he going to come across like a complete asshole? He knows he wouldn't want any pity from Frank.

"Want a cigarette?" Mikey ends up asking instead, holding a battered pack out to Frank. Frank’s eyes flicker down before meeting Mikey's again.

"Sure. Thanks. Wanna sit down?" He asks in return. It does feel a little awkward, standing in the middle of the street like that, so Mikey nods and shuffles after Frank, who sits down against the wall, crosses his legs and sets Zero down in his lap. The dog seems ready to jump and run around again, but when Frank firmly puts his hand on his back Zero eventually lies down.

Frank fusses with the blanket, putting it so that Zero is warm and protected from the wind, but apparently leaving a little for Mikey as well. It's ridiculous, but also kind of nice.

Mikey sits down and hunches his shoulders up against the cold, tugging his hood up over his hair. He hands the cigarettes to Frank as he tries to arrange the blanket over his legs. Mikey has to sit close to Frank, elbows pressed against each other and legs bumping together, but the blanket is soft and worn and warm. Zero peeks out from under it at Mikey, panting happily.

"I feel so betrayed," Frank mutters, glancing down at Zero and pulling an overly dramatic face, cigarette already hanging from the corner of his mouth.

Mikey smiles and pets Zero's head while Frank lights the cigarette.

"Thanks," Frank says after he's taken a drag and hands Mikey the pack back. Mikey looks at it for a split second before he shrugs and shakes his head. "Keep it. I'll bum some off Gerard. Don't smoke much anyway."

"What? Seriously?" Frank raises his eyebrows and looks ready to protest, but then he apparently swallows down his pride and nods, putting the cigarettes and lighter into the pocket of his shabby coat.

"Thanks," it sounds defeated and Mikey can relate. He hates accepting things from other people. It always feels like charity.

They sit in silence while Frank smokes. A group of primary school kids walk by, all in pairs, holding hands and wearing bright vests and tiny backpacks. Mikey spots one with a Batman design. The children stare at them curiously while the teachers look disdainful, shuffling them along quickly, away from Mikey and Frank, who've got no places in brightly colored, child-friendly worlds.

Frank smokes the cigarette down to the filter before he stubs it out on the pavement. Gerard is going to worry and Mikey should really go and meet him at the comic book store, but he doesn't want to move. It's strangely comfortable on the ground, warm under the blanket, and Frank isn't one of the people who constantly need to fill silence with annoying ramblings.

Mikey flinches when Zero snores and Frank giggles. It's high-pitched and should be completely ridiculous.

"Your dog is ridiculous," is what Mikey says instead.

Frank grins at him, and scratches behind Zero's ears, eliciting another snore. Mikey snorts and shakes his head. Both of them are ridiculous, utterly ridiculous and Mikey shouldn't feel drawn to them.

"Watcha up to all day then?" Frank asks, head leaned back against the brick wall. No matter how hard he tries, Mikey can't find anything but curiosity in Frank's voice.

"Nothing special," he scrunches up his nose and looks up at the sky. It looks like it is going to rain. "Just trying to pass the time."

"You got no place to stay?" Frank shifts a little, trying to get more comfortable without jostling Zero.

Mikey shakes his head and picks at the skin around his thumb. It's a long story and he doesn't feel comfortable enough around Frank to tell it. "Sometimes we stay at a motel."

"Ah," Frank nods. Maybe Mikey can talk Gerard into letting Frank stay sometime. Gerard, fuck. He'll be really pissed.

"Sorry, gotta go now." Mikey untangles himself from the blanket and scrambles to his feet. Standing awkwardly he pushes strands of hair away from his forehead, looking down at Frank.

"I'll. . . see you around?"

"Sure," Frank nods and his smile only cracks a little around the edges. "You know where to find me. Thanks again for the cigarettes, and for, you know," he shrugs and scratches the bridge of his nose. "The company."

"Sure," Mikey replies before he turns and walks down the street, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground, not looking back.

~

"Mikey, what the fuck?" Gerard is pissed, the ground around him littered with cigarette butts, his face thunderous. “Where were you?"

"Just took a little longer. Why didn't you go in?" Mikey shrugs and plucks the cigarette from between Gerard’s lips, taking a drag himself. Neither of them have a watch and Mikey doesn't have a sense of time at all. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that he’s late.

"Mikey," Gerard huffs, raking a hand through his hair. Mikey hates it when Gerard’s like this. He's twenty; he doesn't need a fucking babysitter.

A heartbeat later Mikey feels bad for thinking that. Gerard is only trying to keep him, keep them, safe.

"Sorry," he holds the cigarette out to Gerard with an apologetic smile. For a second Gerard looks like he's going to stay mad, but then his shoulders sag and he takes the cigarette with a sigh.

"You okay?" he mumbles around it, looking Mikey over like he's checking for injuries.

"Yeah. Ran into Frank. Forgot about the time." If he's not honest Gerard is going to assume that he met with a dealer or some bullshit.

"Frank? Dude's everywhere lately," Gerard says, sounding the slightest bit grumpy. He drops the cigarette to the ground and juts his chin in direction of the store. "C'mon, I think they got some new stuff in and Bob’s working."  
Bob's a really cool guy who’s in a few afternoons a week. He never gives them shit about reading in the store and not buying anything.

"Cool,” Mikey reaches out and takes Gerard’s hand, tugging him along into the store.

~

"Why would you think that all remakes of horror movies are bad? You gotta give some of them a chance!" Ray huffs and puts a bowl of water down in front of Zero before taking a seat across from Frank, trying to stare him down.

Frank raises an eyebrow and shoves another forkful of lasagna into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully and taking his time.

"Because I'm a man of class," Frank finally points out, waving his fork around and getting tiny splatters of tomato sauce all over the table.

"Classics don't always equal class," Ray huffs.

Frank licks his fork and shakes his head. "Totally. I don't believe in remakes."

"You have no idea what you're missing out on," Ray throws his hands up in exasperation.

"I can live without knowing." Frank finishes his food with a happy sigh, scrapping the last bits of cheese and sauce from the plate.

"Whatever. I'm gonna bring you some DVDs and then you need to watch them. You can't form a valid opinion without at least knowing what you're talking about," Ray decides, petting Zero when the dog keeps rubbing against his leg.

"Sure. If you buy me a portable DVD player." Frank puts his fork down on the plate with a clatter that's feels too loud. He can tell exactly when Ray realizes his mistake because his eyes widen and he looks incredibly guilty.

"Sorry. That. . . that was stupid." Ray mumbles, scratching his shoulder.

If this was a normal social situation Ray would invite Frank to his place now to watch some movies, but that’s not going to happen. Because Frank isn't one of Ray’s acquaintances that might turn into a friend. Frank is just a homeless guy slash charity case.

"Yeah, it was."

Ray shifts and purses his lips, tucking strands of hair behind his ears. He looks so deeply uncomfortable that Frank starts to feel bad.

"Sorry," Frank mutters, knuckling at his eyes tiredly. "Sometimes it's just." He shrugs, not knowing what to say. Because it fucking sucks all the time and sometimes he gets so tired. He doesn't want to freeze and wonder where his next meal is going to come from. Doesn't want to sleep outside in alleys that reek. Doesn't want people to look at him like he's scum.

All Frank wants is to shower and sleep in a bed and have as much to eat as he wants. Even if it was just for one night, it'd give him hope.

"It's okay. Really, I'm sorry," Ray says again.

"I still say remakes are not worth it." Frank kicks Ray under the table and grins. Ray rolls his eyes and kicks Frank back.

"Dorothy said you should stop by the kitchen before you leave, she's got tea for you."

Hot tea is awesome, because Frank's throat is killing and it's cold outside, but Frank can't work up any kind of enthusiasm. As if he needed another reminder tonight.

"Cool, thanks." Frank drums his fingers against the tabletop. He's itching for a cigarette, but he's trying to smoke as little as possible, making the pack Mikey gave him last as long as he can.

Ray's looking like he bit into a slice of lemon again and Frank knows it's his fault. He's got a talent to make situations uncomfortable.

"Diamond Dogs or Ziggy Stardust?" Frank asks. He's annoyed, but he doesn't want Ray to go away. He spends so much time on his own that sometimes all Frank wants is to talk to another human being. Just to make sure that he still exists and hasn’t faded away.

Ray's eyes widen before he splutters. "You can't compare the two! It's, like, entirely different _levels_."

Frank leans back in his chair and listens to Ray, pretending that he’s normal, having a normal conversation with his friend in a coffeeshop.

~

As soon as he gets into the car Mikey knows that it’s going to be a bad night. The john has the kind of look Mikey’s come to associate with hard earned money. He isn’t nervous or fidgety like the first timers, or the ones pretending they’re straight. He’s cool and collected and that’s always dangerous.

Sitting in the passenger seat Mikey swallows against the rising anxiety. He wishes he’d listened to Gerard and not done his last line so early. Being high would have helped so much.  
The radio isn’t turned on and the silence is suffocating just like the smell of leather, stale smoke and the guys nauseating aftershave. The car fits the guy perfectly. He’s on the pudgy side, hair slicked back and heavy gold chains around his neck.

Mikey half-closes his eyes and watches the lights of the city fly by, mentally repeating that this is going to be over soon and they'll be set for the night. He can get Gerard food and cigarettes while Gerard gets him coke.

By the time the car slows to a halt Mikey is marginally calmer, but it feels more like the calm before a storm.

"Out," the man snaps and Mikey undoes the seatbelt with shaky fingers. His palms are damp. After the stuffiness of the car the cold air outside is a relief. Mikey knows the motel they've stopped at, though it isn't one of his regular places.

Mikey follows the man inside and stands quietly behind him as he gets them a room; the guy at the reception desk doesn't look at them twice. They walk over to the elevator in silence and when the door closes with a rattling sound Mikey exhales sharply. All he needs to do is stay calm.

It'll be over soon.

~

It's not like Frank is expecting Mikey to show up again, so when he looks up and down the street, scanning the crowd it doesn't mean that he's keeping an eye out. Nope. He’s just got nothing better to do, so that's what he does. People watching.

The weather is lousy, cold and damp, creeping under protective layers of clothes. Mikey and Gerard are probably cozy and warm in a hotel room somewhere. Not that Frank's bitter.

Sighing he wraps the blanket tighter around himself and curls up, Zero a tiny ball of warmth in his lap. His throat itches and his nose feels blocked. The next few days are going to be rotten, more so than usual.

Frank closes his eyes for a few minutes, dozing while the noise of the crowd washes over him. When someone clears their throat Frank's eyes fly open in panic. If it's the cops he'll have to grab Zero and run. Fuck, he really can't use this right now. His lungs are going to explode if he has to run.

Peering up carefully it takes Frank a few seconds to realize that it’s Mikey standing in front of him, wearing the same clothes as always, but he's hunched into himself, shoulders almost up to his ears. One side of his face is bruised and his lips swollen.

"Hey," he doesn't meet Frank's eyes as he speaks. "I'm. Just. Can I stay here for a bit?"

It's the oddest kind of request, but Frank nods before he even thinks about it and detangles himself from the blanket.

Mikey sits down gingerly, moving in a way that tells Frank that more bruises are hidden underneath his clothes. He drapes the blanket over them, a smile crossing his face when Zero immediately squirms into Mikey's lap and licks his hand. There's a flicker of emotion on Mikey's face as he pets Zero.

Frank manages to stay silent for about thirty seconds before he bursts out "Had a rough night?"

Mikey shrugs, clearly not willing to talk about it. "We needed the money," is all he says, all he needs to say.

"Shit, man," Frank shakes his head. In comparison his life doesn’t look quite so bad.

Mikey shrugs again, like it's no big deal. To him it probably isn't. Frank feels stupidly sheltered all of a sudden.

Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth Frank reaches into the pocket of his hoodie and gets the battered pack of cigarettes out, holding it out for Mikey with a wry smile. "Want one?"

Mikey cracks a smile and takes the pack from Frank. "Thanks," he mutters, putting a cigarette between his lips.

He lights it and takes a long drag, exhaling with a sigh of satisfaction, head falling back against the brick wall. Frank watches him from behind his greasy fringe, noting the stark contrast of pale skin and purple bruises. He doesn't want to indulge in that train of thought. Wondering how Mikey got marked is a road that leads to dark places.

"You into music?" Frank asks as the silence drags out. It's a good conversation starter and he's got opinions about music, okay?

"Yes," Mikey replies.

"What do you like to listen to then?" Frank prompts and leans back as well, pulling his knees up to his chest and curling into the blanket.

"Hm." Mikey takes another drag. "Lots of stuff. I really like the Smashing Pumpkins."

"The Pumpkins are awesome," Frank agrees, slightly relieved. It would've been such a bummer if it turned out that Mikey had completely shit taste in music.

"You ever seen them live?" Mikey asks, cracking his eyes open and looking over at Frank, who shakes his head. "I was at the Madison Square Garden show. It was fucking unreal." Mikey smiles at the memory. "My brother got us the tickets."

"Woah, I'm belatedly jealous." It’s weird to talk about this, reminding Frank that for both, Mikey and he, there had been a life before the street. To Frank that life is a distant memory, a dream with the colors fading along the edges.

"It was cool," Mikey says again, sucking on the cigarette. He's fidgeting, a little more restless than before and squinting in the light. The bruises on his face must be hurting.

"I really wanted to go but my mom wouldn't let me," Frank explains, tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie. Even two years later it still hurts to think about her, hurts to know that she's not here anymore to sit him down and make him a cup of cocoa, promising that everything is going to be all right, that they'll work it out.

"My mom didn't know we were going, she would've never let me. But Gerard was in college already, so we just said I was going to spend the weekend with him. Which I did."

Frank laughs. "So you were actually telling the truth, just without the details."

"Yep," A grin flashes across Mikey's face and Frank's throat tightens. He wishes he'd known Mikey back then. He would've liked to see that mischievous smile without the constant wariness.

Mikey takes a last drag of his cigarette before he stubs it out on the ground next to him and huddles closer to Frank, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders.

"Tired?" Frank asks, deeply sympathetic. He doesn’t know when he last got a good night's sleep. Months ago, probably.

"Not really." Mikey shakes his head. This close up Frank can see that the skin around his nose is an angry red.

"Just sayin’, it might be boring for you to sit here. Nothing much happens all day," Frank points out and almost bites down on his tongue. He doesn't want Mikey to leave, but at the same time he feels like there are more exciting places to be for him.

"Not looking for excitement," Mikey mutters, something unspoken in the way his body tenses. "Just needed a break."

Frank nods, not even trying to make sense of it. They sit in comfortable silence for a while, Zero asleep between them, half sprawled out in Frank's lap with his head resting on Mikey's thigh. Frank hopes that he's warm enough under the blanket.

Next to him Mikey sniffles more frequently and Frank is about to ask if he's coming down with a cold when he notices the red smears under Mikey's nose.

"Dude," Frank sits up a little straighter and Mikey snaps from whatever trance he was in.

"What?"

"You. . . you've got. Uh. Your nose," Frank stutters, flapping his hands under the blanket.

"What?" Mikey reaches up and gingerly touches his nose. His fingers come away red. He looks at them for a few seconds before shrugging and tugging the sleeve of his hoodie down over his hand and holding it against his nose.

"That happen often?" Frank asks because fucking hell, he's not as nonchalant as Mikey, who's got a fucking nosebleed and acts all casual about it. What if it's because the bruises burst something inside Mikey's skull?

"Kinda, yeah."

As much as he likes talking to Mikey, sometimes Frank wants to bash his head against a wall. It's like trying to teach a kitten to speak.

"The cold?" Frank prods further. It's freezing and his nose is fucking hurting.

"The coke," Mikey nods.

Oh.

 _Oh._ It takes a few seconds for Frank's brain to catch up. He feels like a fish, starring with his mouth open, before he pulls himself out of it. Obviously it's not a big deal for Mikey, so why would Frank make a big deal out of it?

Gingerly Frank sits back against the wall and scratches behind Zero's ears. Next to him Mikey is breathing through his mouth and Frank listens to the rhythm of it for a few minutes before he turns.

"Lemme have a look."

Mikey allows him to pull his hand away from his nose, the material of his black hoodie shining wet in places. There's blood smeared around Mikey's nose, but it looks mostly dry. Frank carefully prods the sides of Mikey's nose, though he doesn't know why that is going to help.

"I think you're okay," he finally says, just because there's no more blood coming out of Mikey's nose right at this moment. "Really gotta clean up though."

Mikey wrinkles his nose, reminding Frank of a grouchy kitten.

"C'mon there's a public restroom just down the road."

Mikey looks incredibly put upon but eventually gets up with a sigh. It startles Zero awake, who looks around in confusion before he huffs and curls up against Frank's stomach.

Frank watches Mikey walking down the street, shoulders pulled up and going in zig zag lines to avoid any kind of close proximity to other people. When he eventually disappears in the crowd Frank sags back against the wall, rubbing his eyes. All of this is really fucking confusing, but he enjoys Mikey's company enough that he's willing to stick around for a while longer and see where this goes.

~

Gerard isn't freaking out. Totally not. Mikey is old enough to look after himself.  
But it's getting late and as much as their days are without schedule, their nights aren't.

Mikey was upset when he left. Not that he said so, Mikey would never do that, but Gerard has always been able to read his brother like an open book.

Tilting his head back Gerard finishes his coffee and throws the empty paper cup away. Squaring his shoulders he turns and walks down the street. Mikey wasn't at Starbucks or the record store, so there's only one place left for Gerard to check.

The streets aren't crowded this time of the day, the rush hour traffic long gone. The few people passing Gerard are hurrying home, eager to escape the cold and be with their families and loved ones, catch their favorite show on TV. It's a feeling Gerard doesn't really know anymore. His steps are slow as he walks without destination, nobody waiting for him.

Gerard's fingers curl in the pockets of his leather jacket. He desperately needs a pair of gloves, but there are always more important things they have to buy.

A little further up the road Gerard spots two people sitting on the ground, huddled underneath a grey blanket that might've been blue some time ago. Gerard's steps speed up and as he draws closer it becomes clear that one of the two is definitely Mikey. He's still bruised and looks miserable, but he's less fidgety, looking up at the sky through heavily-lidded eyes.

All Gerard can see of Frank is a mop of black hair, his head resting on Mikey's shoulder. The last few steps Gerard slows down until he's standing in front of them. Mikey doesn't move, eyes glassy. He's good at tuning out the world.

"Mikey." Gerard nudges Mikey's foot with his own. Before his brother can react a lump starts moving under the blanket and a tiny dog emerges, straightens up to his full height – which isn't very impressive – and barks at Gerard. He looks about as menacing as a mouse.  
"Zero, c'mere," Mikey mumbles, snapped from his trance. The dog looks from Gerard to Mikey and back, growling at Gerard again to make his point before he trots over to Mikey's side and flops down.

"Made a new friend?" Gerard tries to keep the bite out of his voice. He's not jealous or anything because Mikey spent his day with Frank, _cuddling_.

Mikey is about to shrug but remembers Frank sleeping on his shoulder and stops. His dismissiveness makes Gerard's blood boil, even though the rational part of his brain reminds him that Mikey's often like that, especially after coming down.

"It's late," he snaps, lips twisting. "We need to go." He wishes he could give Mikey a break to recover, but it's Monday and Mondays are always fucking slow. Gerard is never going to make enough for coke, food, and a motel room on his own.

"Okay." Mikey pets Zero before he shifts and nudges Frank with his shoulder. Frank groans and burrows his face in Mikey's neck, sending a hot flash of anger down Gerard's spine.

"Frank, c'mon," Mikey mumbles, trying to dislodge Frank from his side. Eventually Frank blinks and sits up a little. He looks like a deer caught in the headlights at first and Gerard can tell the exact moment he realizes where he is by the way his shoulders drop.

"Fuck, sorry. Didn't mean to fall asleep." Frank scrubs at his eyes and coughs. He's still pressed to Mikey's side.

"It's cool." Mikey pats Frank's shoulder.

"We need to go." Gerard is getting impatient. For the first time since he woke up Frank looks up at him.

"Oh. Hi." Surprise turns into a smile that Gerard doesn't return.

"Gotta go." Mikey scratches Zero's head again before he squirms out from under the blanket and wraps it back around Frank.

Once he's on his feet it takes all of Gerard's self-discipline not to grab Mikey's hand.

"Um. Sure. I'll . . . see you around?" Frank sounds hopeful and it annoys Gerard.

“Yeah.” Mikey’s reply comes slowly and Gerard knows it’s not only because he’s considering the best way to phrase his answer, but also working up the courage to say the words.  
“I’ll come by tomorrow if I can.”

Frank’s smile is so wide it should make the corners of his mouth crack. Gerard feels like he’s going to throw up.

~

It’s an easy night because Gerard makes sure to send the easy customers Mikey’s way.  
Mikey isn’t feeling too grateful because it means that Gerard has to deal with the assholes.

His brother has been in a mood all day and all Mikey wants is some weed to come down and a bed to curl up in.

Mikey has no idea what time it is when Gerard shuffles over and suggests they call it a night. It’s still pitch-black and definitely a lot earlier than usual, when they stay until the bitter end, trying to make a few more bucks off the really desperate.

But Mikey trusts Gerard to have made sure they have enough money, so he pushes away from the wall.

“Motel?”

“Yes.” Gerard scratches his head. He really needs a shower. “The one near Dunkin Donuts tonight.”

If they’re going to the really cheap place with only one bathroom per floor and sheets with holes in them they haven’t made much money.

They walk in silence, Mikey enjoying the crisp air against his skin and opening his mouth to see if he can taste it. Walking through the deserted streets feels intimate, like he and Gerard are the only people left in the world.

Mikey would’ve liked to walk for much longer, but they’re at the motel a few minutes later. He lets Gerard check them in and follows him up the creaking stairs to the second floor. It’s quiet, so not a lot of rooms are booked or everyone is asleep already.

Stumbling into the room Mikey makes a beeline for the bed but Gerard catches him around the waist and holds him back.

“Gee.” Mikey mumbles, taking another staggering step forward, trying to pull his brother along.

“Love you, Mikey.” Gerard buries his face in Mikey’s neck and speaks the words against his skin like a secret.

“Love you too, Gee. Really wanna lie down now though. You got something?” The bruises on his body are throbbing and Mikey’s lips feel hot and swollen.

Gerard sighs and his arms tighten around Mikey for a second. “Shower first?”

Mikey grumbles, but Gerard is right. He isn’t going to want to do anything but melt into the mattress after smoking up.

“Fine.” He leans back against Gerard for a second before they both stumble towards the door. They never shower alone in places like this. The bathroom doors don’t lock properly and the stalls are too open for comfort.

As they walk to the bathroom Gerard keeps peering around nervously and it makes Mikey paranoid, his steps speeding up. An ugly door with peeling, white paint says “bathroom”. It squeaks horribly when they open it. Mikey holds his breath for a few seconds, only exhaling once Gerard has checked all the stalls.

Mikey walks to the stall furthest away from the door. The tiled floor is wet and dirty and the shower head rusty, pipes rattling when Gerard turns on the water so it warms up while they undress. There is nowhere to put their clothes, so they hang them over the thin wall separating the second and third stall.

It’s fucking cold in the room and goosebumps rise on Mikey’s skin. Gerard’s hand is like a block of ice on his back as he steers him into the shower. The tiles beneath his feet are slippery and damp.

The first contact with the hot spray feels like heaven. Mikey hums and shuffles forward, wishing he could submerge his entire body in that warmth, flush the cold and hurt out of his system.

Mikey reaches back with his hand and it only takes a second before Gerard is plastered against his back, skin warming quickly in the shower.

For a while they stand and let the water wash over them. It doesn’t take the bruises away or fill out the places where skin is pulled too taut over bones, but it washes some of the stink of other people down the drain. Mikey wishes they had shower gel, something that smells clean and fresh. Maybe he can talk Gerard into buying a travel-sized bottle tomorrow.

Against his back Gerard is still tense, arms locked around Mikey’s waist like he’s afraid Mikey’s going to disappear down the drain.

“Hey.” Mikey squirms and turns, studying Gerard from up-close. “What’s up?”

Sometimes Gerard will get weird, but usually not this weird. Not without a reason.

“Nothing.” Gerard mumbles, not meeting Mikey’s eyes. He’s always been a rotten liar.

“What?” Mikey asks again, hands framing Gerard’s face and forcing him to look up. “No secrets, remember?”

Gerard sighs. His eyes flutter closed when Mikey’s fingers scratch his scalp.

“Why’d you go stay with Frank?”

“Because you were annoying,” Mikey huffs, fingers digging in a little more.

“Sorry. You shoulda said.” That tone is the reason Mikey didn’t. Gerard’s sad and disappointed voice is one of the worst things in the world.

“It’s fine. Frank is nice, I wanted to go see him anyway.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say because Gerard frowns and presses closer, pushing Mikey back against the wall. The tiles are cold against his back.

“What’s it about this Frank guy anyway?”

Mikey shrugs because what the hell is Gerard’s problem? “He’s nice. And Zero’s nice too.” Mikey feels comfortable talking to Frank and sometimes he needs time away from Gerard’s and his routine, passing the time until it is time for work.

“Right.” Gerard’s voice is as tense as his body and Mikey sighs.

“Gee.” Mikey presses his palms a little more firmly against Gerard’s cheeks and leans in for a close-lipped kiss. Gerard stands stock-still for a few seconds, fingers digging into Mikey’s hips, before he gives in with a sigh.

“I don’t trust him.”

Yes, definitely one of the Gerard things Mikey doesn’t understand.

“Why?”

“Dunno,” Gerard shrugs, forehead leaned against Mikey’s, tips of their noses touching as Mikey turns his head ever-so-slightly.

“If he wanted to kill me and dump my body in the river he would’ve done that already,” Mikey points out, wincing when Gerard’s fingers dig in so much it hurts.

“Don’t even fucking say shit like that.”

“Sorry.” Sometimes Gerard gets sensitive like that. Mikey runs his fingers through the tangled mess of Gerard’s red hair, trying to separate some of the strands while Gerard stands there, eyes closed, just breathing. In and out, in and out. It’s so calm a pattern that it gives away the effort behind it.

“He’s not gonna hurt me,” Mikey says eventually, holding his hands under the slowly cooling spray of water so the few strands of red hair wound between his fingers get washed away.

“You don’t know that.” Gerard blinks his eyes open, lashes stuck together. He’s still frowning and gently prods at Mikey’s swollen lip.

“You’re just jealous.” Mikey knows he’s right when Gerard doesn’t reply and leans in, kissing the bruise on Mikey’s collarbone. Gerard’s finger trails down over Mikey’s chest as he inspects the angry marks.

“You know you don’t have to, right?” Mikey asks, looking down as he watches, wet hair hanging in his face. “I’ll always love you best.”

Gerard looks up at that and for the first time since this afternoon he smiles.

“Promise?”

Mikey leans down for another kiss. “Promise.”

How Gerard can even consider Mikey leaving him for someone else is beyond him. Mikey nearly chokes on some water as he snorts. Sometimes his brother’s got the strangest ideas.

~

Frank hasn’t seen Mikey in three days. Not that he actually believed him when he said he’d come by again. If Frank’s learnt one thing it’s that hope is motherfucking stupid. Besides, he doesn’t have time to worry about Mikey.

He’s only got one can of food left for Zero, his throat is raw, his chest hurts and he can’t take a deep breath without coughing. He’s constantly cold and really, Mikey is the last thing on his mind.

“You all right?”

Frank blinks blearily at Ray. He completely zoned out on Ray’s explanation of his cell phone’s stupid battery bug.

“Sure,” he mutters, looking down miserably at the chicken burger on his plate. He used to be vegetarian, but these days Frank can’t be picky. The thought of food scraping down his throat makes Frank shudder. “Just tired.”

“Did you . . . oh.” Ray stops himself and judging by the sheepish look he remembered halfway through what he was thinking that Frank is homeless and doesn’t do all the things Ray and his perfectly normal friends do.

“I should get going.” There’s no reason to, it’s not like Frank has anywhere to be, but being here makes him even more miserable. Zero looks up blearily at Frank and sighs, sounding incredibly put upon as he stumbles to his feet.

“Right.” Ray looks slightly confused, but Frank’s eyes are burning and standing is kind of hard. He’s going to be extra nice tomorrow or something.

“See ya,” he waves before tugging on Zero’s leash and dragging his feet, swallowing hard. His alley seems too far away from here. He might as well be walking to the end of the world.

It’s so cold outside that breathing hurts. Frank huddles into his jacket, pulls his ratty scarf up over his nose. It makes breathing really gross because Frank doesn’t like to have his germ-infested breath reflected back on his face, but it’s better than suffocating on air. Though the irony would almost make it worth it. Frank’d probably make the front page of the newspaper. ‘Homeless scum died because of cold air. One rat less in the city.’ It’d be kind of awesome, but nobody would look after Zero and that? That would suck.

Frank let’s go of the bleak death scenarios running through his mind, because thinking about not a single person in the entire world missing him _hurts_ , and picks up Zero, who’s getting slower and slower and making little, disgruntled dog noises.

“Princess,” Frank mutters, but smiles into his scarf when Zero licks his jacket and curls up against his shoulder like a baby. His dog? Is spoilt. Frank wouldn’t have it any other way.

He trudges on, keeping his eyes down on the sidewalk. There’s a sharpness in the air that promises snow. Frank tries not to worry about it. He can deal with the situation once it actually snows, try and find a dry spot to stay. Winter fucking sucks. Not that there is ever a good time to be homeless, but summer is definitely preferable. Only sometimes the heat makes Frank really fucking sick if he doesn’t get enough food or runs to the public restroom all the time to refill his water bottle. Still, so much better than this winter bullshit.

When he finally reaches his corner Frank is ready to collapse. His heart’s beating too fast and he’s got trouble catching his breath. Zero is a dead weight in his arms.

“C’mon, gotta take the last few steps on your own,” Frank mutters and lets the dog down, but keeps a tight hold on his leash. He’s managed to walk all the way, but all of a sudden his knees feel weak and he stumbles towards the alley where his things are stored, barely able to pull the blanket out from behind the dumpster before sinking down on the cold ground and curling up, breathing hard. Zero noses his way under the blanket and Frank makes sure they’re both covered before his eyes fall closed. He’s resting them, just for a second. Falling asleep here would be fucking stupid.

Really.fucking.stupid.

A kick to his side jolts Frank awake. His brain is still foggy with sleep and at first he isn’t even able to open his eyes because his eyelids are too heavy. Slowly his brain registers a low whining sound and voices. Frank feels sick with the urgency to _wake up_. His body is too fucking slow, even the movement of eyelids fluttering sluggish.

The adrenaline finally kick-starts Frank’s body and he looks up, blinking against the last remains of sleep. There’re three guys standing over him, all of them looking young enough for Frank to assume that they shouldn’t be out anymore. They’re sneering and one of them laughs before he pulls his leg back. It is then that Frank realizes with horror that Zero’s standing in front of him, teeth bared and growling. Before Frank can do anything the guy kicks Zero’s side and sends the tiny dog flying against the wall with a heart-breaking wail.

The guys laugh and Frank sees red. He’s on his feet before he knows it, stumbling over the blanket.

“Look who’s finally decided to wake up. Fuckin’ lazy asshole.”

Frank doesn’t know which of them says it. He doesn’t care. They can say whatever they want about him, but hurting his dog? Is not on.

Frank punches one of the guys square in the face before they even realize what is going on.

One against three, it’s fucking hopeless, but for now Frank’s got the advantage of the surprise moment.

“Motherfucker!”

One of them pounces on Frank before he can throw a second punch, almost sending them both toppling to the ground. The second guy steps up in front of Frank and punches him in the stomach. Fuck. Frank thinks he’s going to throw up.

“Fuckin’ faggot’s got the nerve to touch us. You should crawl back into the hole you came from!”

Frank struggles and tries to squirm out of the guy’s hold. It was so unbelievably stupid to start something instead of running away, but anger still runs hot through Frank’s veins. Anger and shame he’d never admit to.

The guys’ jeering turns into static noise in Frank’s ears as his eyes dart around, seek Zero’s form, and a way of escape. He can’t take the three of them and he doesn’t want to end up dead in an alley. He might be scum, but even he deserves better than that.

A fist hits Frank hard in the jaw and his head twists to the side with a strangled sound of pain. His headache amplifies to brain-splitting levels.

Frank’s been in enough pits and bar fights in his time to know how to stand his ground, but he’s sick and there are three of them. As soon as he gets a moment to catch his breath he slams his foot down on the guy’s toes as hard as he can, making him yelp. He loosens his grip for a second and Frank takes his chances and pushes away with all his might. He nearly falls but the adrenaline keeps him going, scrambling to pick up Zero and get the hell out of here.

He can hear the guys yelling, their sneakers squeaking on the concrete, but Frank’s got a lifetime of running and hiding on them. The air burns in his lungs. Frank doesn’t slow down, just keeps going. Zero is terrifyingly still in his arms.

Frank turns corners randomly. He’s got no idea where he is, but it doesn’t matter. He only slows down when he’s absolutely certain that no one is following him anymore. Frank’s breathing is ragged and as soon as he stops his body begins to tremble, knees weak and almost giving out. It doesn’t matter.

“Zero, hey, hey buddy,” Frank crouches down and puts Zero carefully in his lap, stroking his side. He’s breathing and looking at Frank, eyes bright and alert. When he moves he whines a little, but overall he seems to be fine. Frank exhales shakily and falls back onto his ass, curling over his dog protectively.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into Zero’s fur. He wishes he could take him to the vet to make sure that he’s okay. Maybe he can look at the library’s computer when the mobile vet is going to be in town. If Frank gives them big enough eyes they’ll treat Zero for free.

“We’re okay,” Frank mumbles again, but he doesn’t know for whose benefit. Zero licks his neck and Frank holds him as close as he dares.

~

The past few days are a blur of pain, smoke and the dusty smell of motel sheets. Mikey’s bruises hurt more on the second day than on the first and Gerard had snuck him a constant supply of weed, only giving out the coke before work. Mikey had slept a lot more than usual, even napped in the corner of a Starbucks booth while Gerard drew on napkins. He had wanted to go see Frank, but his limbs were filled with lead and the thought of walking too exhausting.

And now Frank’s gone. Mikey stares at the ground, but Frank doesn’t magically appear. He doesn’t sit a few meters away either. He’s _gone_. Mikey swallows against the lump in his throat. He doesn’t know why he’s disappointed. Not like it matters, right? Friends come and go, and he hasn’t known Frank for very long.

Mikey curls his fingers into the pockets of his coat and turns to walk away, sighing. He blames feeling queasy on not having eaten enough.

For a while Mikey wanders around, trying to pass the time and not think of anything in particular. It doesn’t work. Whenever a dog barks he hopes it’s Zero. He glances into every alley he passes in hopes of finding Frank. It’s ridiculous and Mikey’s frustrated with himself.

This is why you don’t get attached. Attachment equals doom. He can never mention this to Gerard or he’ll go into full big brother mode, giving Mikey the entire ‘I told you so’ speech, complete with sad headshake. If Mikey has to sit through one more of Gerard’s big brother speeches he’s going to knock himself unconscious.

Mikey shakes his head and goes to buy himself a venti Latte at Starbucks instead. Wandering the cold streets with a hot drink in hand is so much nicer.

Mikey’s close to the comic book store, when he sees a dog in front of a supermarket, starring forlornly at the sliding doors. Mikey bites down on the straw of his drink and squints. It looks like Zero, but that doesn’t mean anything. A lot of dogs look alike.

When the dog spots him he starts wagging his tail excitedly and strains against the leash keeping him chained to the wall. The closer Mikey gets the faster the tail-wagging gets. There’s no way it’s not Zero.

“Hey you.” Mikey crouches down and holds out his hand, grinning when Zero licks it. He pets the dog’s head and takes a sip of coffee. Every now and then luck’s on his side.

Mikey finishes his coffee and puts the cup down. Zero immediately takes it upon himself to inspect it closely.

“Coffee’s amazing, but I think you’re too tiny to have any,” Mikey mumbles, shifting a little when his knees start to hurt. Kneeling he can do, but crouching his body isn’t happy about.

“Fucker, get away from my. . . oh. Hi Mikey.”

Mikey looks up and finds Frank standing in front of him with a somewhat sheepish expression.  
He’s carrying a plastic bag with two cans of dog food.

“Hey.”

“Sorry, I’m just.” Frank groans and knuckles at his eyes. He looks even more tired than usual and his voice is rough around the edges. “Some stupid fuckers tried to hurt him yesterday and I’m just,” he shrugs again, giving up on finishing the sentence, and picks Zero up, holding him protectively.

“Assholes,” Mikey agrees, standing up as well. At least now he knows why Frank wasn’t at his usual spot. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, fine.” Frank seems a little absent, but then he gives Mikey a smile that’s only slightly frayed around the edges. “Haven’t seen you in a while, you feeling better?”

Mikey nods, reaching up to probe at the skin around his eye. It still feels tender, but he knows that the bruise is fading.

“Good. That’s…good,” Frank nods, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Yeah,” Mikey nods and there’s a beat of awkward silence before Mikey exhales. “Wanna hang out? I got a few hours.”

~

As fucking miserable as Frank is, he’s still happy to see Mikey. Even if Mikey doesn’t talk much, curling up under the blanket Frank picked up earlier, once he’d worked up the nerve to return to his usual spot, is nice. It’s good to have someone there with him, enabling Frank to let his guard down a little.

Before he knows it he’s leaning against Mikey’s side and his eyes are sliding shut, mouth slightly open because he can’t breathe through his nose.

“Sorry. ‘m tired,” Frank mumbles. It hurts to talk and he swallows hard. It’s like forcing razor blades down his throat.

“That’s all right.” Mikey’s got Zero in his lap. By the looks of it, the dog is half-asleep as well.

“You seem tired, just get some sleep. I don’t mind.”

“’m kinda a bad host,” Frank jokes, unable to work up the energy for a smile.

“You are, but it’s okay. Never expected you to have manners.” Mikey pokes Frank’s knee teasingly and doesn’t pull his hand away. The contact is nice.

“Not like you’re a lady anyway,” Frank mumbles around a yawn.

“True.” Mikey squeezes Frank’s knee. “Sleep.”

“Yes, sir.” Frank’s already drifting off, curling into Mikey’s side like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

~

Frank is fast asleep and Mikey’s worried. Gerard and him get colds frequently, but they are annoying more than anything else. It’s kind of difficult to deliver requested services when you can’t fucking _breathe_.

Frank has more than a simple cold. Every breath he takes rattles painfully in his chest and he’s radiating heat through the layers of clothes he’s bundled up in. His forehead is clammy against Mikey’s neck.

Mikey keeps petting Zero, who’s fast asleep in his lap, thinking about what to do. Making a decision is easier than expected and once Mikey’s got a plan of action it’s a little easier to breathe.

~

The room is too small to pace, but Gerard attempts it anyway. He can’t calm down, not when Mikey’s not back. He’d been shifty about where he was going, only said that he’d meet Gerard here again. It fucking _worries_ Gerard. A lot. Because Mikey could be doing God knows what, God knows where. Gerard hopes he isn’t stupid enough to buy from a shady dealer.

Gerard sits down on the bed, contemplates cracking the window open to have a smoke, but dismisses the idea because they’ve only got half a pack left.

When the door opens Gerard almost falls over his feet in his haste to get up.

“Where the fuck-“ he deflates a little, “were you?” It’s a void question now that the door is fully open and Gerard can see that Mikey’s not alone. He’s carrying that scruffy bundle of a dog he’s so fond of, and pulls Frank into the room after him.

“ _Mikey_ ,” Gerard hisses, glancing from Frank to Mikey and back. Admittedly, Frank looks bad, even paler than when Gerard had last seen him, eyes glassy and skin clammy.

“He’s sick,” Mikey explains and lets Zero down, who promptly goes to sniff out every corner of the room. “He needs to stay, it’s cold outside.”

Frank looks uncomfortable and shifts from one foot to the other. “Sorry, don’t mean to be any trouble. But Mikey said. . .” he trails off. His voice sounds rough and fine, Gerard does feel kind of bad for the guy. Mikey stands there with his lips pressed together and Gerard knows to pick his battles. This is not worth it. If he sends Frank away Mikey is going to throw a fit of epic proportions. A Mikey-fit, which is so much worse than the tantrum of a normal person, because Mikey is the master of judgmental silence.

“Sure. You…uh…wanna shower?” Okay, that might not have been the most tactful thing to say, but Gerard didn’t mean it like that and hurries to add “might warm you up a little.”

Frank still unsure, looks at Mikey who gives a small nod.

“Uh. Sure. Thanks.”

They’re silent as Frank walks over to the bathroom, and even after the door clicks shut neither of them speaks at first. The tension is broken by Gerard’s shoulders slumping as he sighs audibly. Mikey is never going to talk if he doesn’t start, so there is no point in dragging it out.  
“Why’d you bring him here?”

“Because he’s sick,” Mikey repeats, sitting down on the edge of the bed and leaning forward to untie his heavy boots. “It’s fucking cold outside.”

Okay. Gerard can see the reasoning behind it, understand it, feel sorry for Frank even, but having him here remains an invasion of privacy. Him and his dog, who’s sniffing Gerard’s socks and looking up at him.

“Don’t fucking judge me, we didn’t have time for the laundromat.” Great, now Gerard is reasoning with a dog. Clearly he’s losing it. To be honest, he’s surprised that he’s held onto sanity this long. The dog keeps looking up at him for a few more seconds (full of judgment, Gerard is sure) before he trots over to Mikey.

There are a million questions Gerard wants to ask. What’s going to happen tomorrow? Is Mikey going to bring Frank along all the time now? How does he know that Frank’s not just using him? What if Frank gets super sick and collapses? Are they responsible for him?

In the end Gerard doesn’t ask any of them. Instead he watches as Mikey picks Zero up and sets him down at the end of the bed, explaining in a low voice that he can sleep on the bed as long as he behaves. There’s something there, a part of Mikey that Gerard hasn’t seen in so long that suddenly he’s willing to put up with everything and everyone, as long as Mikey keeps smiling like that.

~

Mikey’s brother hates him. Which is fine, if Frank were in his position he wouldn’t want his brother to hang out with someone like himself either. In the order of the world prostitutes are still above hobos.

He’s also certain that they’re going to send him away once he emerges from the bathroom. It was a nice gesture on Mikey’s part, but Gerard won’t let him stay. It’s fine though, he’s not getting his hopes up and can enjoy the shower. Because damn, it’s amazing.

The tiles in the bathroom are dirty and the shower head rusty and old, but the water is hot and that’s more than Frank’s had in months. He used to be able to shower at the shelter, back when he didn’t have Zero, but the water there was only lukewarm. Now the sink in the McDonald’s bathroom has to do.

Frank groans and let’s his head fall forward, eyes closed. He wishes this shower could go on forever. The water is washing all the grime and sweat away and warming him up in a way that nothing has in ages. No matter where he is, even at the soup kitchen, it feels like there’s a coldness left in his bones that doesn’t go away. The water warms him through and through until his skin is glowing pink underneath his tattoos.

Eventually Frank forces himself to turn off the water. He doesn’t want to hog the shower or give Gerard even more reason to hate him by appearing greedy. Besides, he’s starting to feel a little light-headed.

Grabbing one of the towels Frank dries off and rubs his hair as dry as it’ll get before he sits down on the dirty bathroom floor when his knees wobble too much. Going out with wet hair is going to make this damn cold worse (and Frank is still firmly telling himself that it’s just a cold, nothing more) but if he wears his hat maybe he can prevent the worst.

Putting his clothes back on is a tedious and slow task, Frank’s body protesting movement, and against freshly washed skin his clothes feel stiff and scratchy. He only puts one of his hoodies on, not wanting to bundle up completely yet, before he pushes to his feet and shuffles out of the room.

Mikey is sitting on one of the beds, patting Zero and Gerard is rummaging through a backpack. Both look up when Frank comes out of the bathroom. Frank wishes he could sink into the ground.

“Uh. Thanks. That was. Really cool.” Frank’s sure that at one point in his life he was a lot more eloquent then this. “I guess I’d better,” he trails off and gestures towards the door.

“What?” Mikey blinks at him. “You wanna get something to drink? Or to eat? They don’t have room service here.”

Frank isn’t sure who’s more confused.

“No, I meant I’m gonna go. I don’t want to. . . make you uncomfortable.” His eyes flicker to Gerard before he looks down at his shoes.

There’s silence in the room for a few seconds before Gerard clears his throat. “No, hey, Frank, you should totally stay.”

Frank worries his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes darting back and forth between the brothers. He hates taking charity from others, but Mikey’s really nice and his brother seems all right. It’s warm in here and the bed is singing a siren song that Frank’s body is unable to resist.

“’kay. Cool. I mean, thanks. That’s…really great.” Fuck, he’s babbling like some idiot. “I’ll, uh.” Frank looks helplessly between the beds. He wants to lie down, he feels like he’s going to _cry_ if he can’t lie down within the next twenty seconds, but taking one of the beds seems rude.

“Mikey and I can share a bed, then you can have this one.” Gerard says, unexpectedly coming to Frank’s rescue. It takes all of Frank’s willpower not to faceplant into bed as Gerard gets up. He exhales slowly through his nose and shuffles to the side of the bed, pushing the covers back before he crawls in, unable to hold back a sigh of relief.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, eyelids feeling heavy already. He hopes his gratitude comes across.

“Get some sleep.”

Frank only hums in response to Mikey and curls up with another sigh. This is what heaven must feel like. The mattress is soft and the covers around him warm and fluffy and Frank feels like he’s floating. He can’t remember the last time he slept in a bed, so he’s going to enjoy every fucking nanosecond of this.

~

The mattress is lumpy and Mikey shifts uncomfortably, trying to find a position where no spring is digging into his side. He grumbles and cracks one eye open when it becomes clear that he isn’t going back to sleep. He and Gerard had curled up in bed once Frank had gone to sleep and Mikey’d smoked a joint by the window. He’d felt calm enough to sleep then, listening to Gerard humming a song he didn’t recognize under his breath.

It feels like he’s barely slept five minutes, eyelids sticky as he blinks. Gerard’s back is turned to him and there are hushed sounds Mikey’s sleepy mind eventually identifies as voices.

“You haven’t seen the new Dawn of the Dead?”

Mikey turns his head a little and smiles into the pillow. Gerard sounds so appalled.

It’s nice that Gerard and Frank are talking. Mikey was worried that Gerard was going to be all hostile and jealous, making the entire day terribly awkward. Mikey hums and scoots closer to Gerard, curling into his brother’s warmth. He still feels calm and sleepy, luxuriating in the feeling.

For a while Mikey lies there with his eyes closed, letting the conversation wash over him. When Gerard shifts and gets up he grumbles and opens his eyes just enough to see what is going on.

“Where’re you goin?” Mikey’s voice is scratchy and he coughs, swallowing against the dryness in his throat.

“Frank’s never seen the new Dawn of the Dead.” Gerard’s eyes are wide, like he’s the bearer of terrible news.

“Hm. Sucks,” Mikey mumbles, knuckling at his eyes.

“So I said we’d watch it on Pay-per-view.”

Mikey blinks owlishly at that, but Gerard is already fiddling with the TV. Paying for movies is a luxury they don’t indulge in. When Mikey glances over to the other bed it’s not difficult to see why Gerard’s suddenly willing to spend money on a movie.

Frank is curled up in a blanket nest, eyes shiny with what Mikey guesses is a mixture of fever and excitement, hair all over the place and skin flushed. Denying him anything right now seems impossible.

“How’re you feeling?” Mikey asks, coughing again because his throat is always dry after sleeping.

“Good.” Frank’s voice is nasal and it’s obvious he’s running a fever, but he appears content enough that Mikey leaves it be.

“So. Dawn of the Dead?”

“Yeah. Ray told me about it and Gerard said I should really see it,” Frank says. It looks like he’s trying to flail but is stuck inside his blanket nest.

“Remake?”

“Yeah. I saw the original, like, ages ago,” Frank wrinkles his nose. “I’m curious about this one.”

“It’s. . . good. I mean, you shouldn’t compare it to the original. Comparing stuff never works out,” Mikey says with a shrug. He hasn’t seen a movie in ages and Dawn of the Dead is entertaining enough.

“You should totally talk to Ray. He’s got opinions and stuff.” Frank’s voice goes all strained at the end and he barely finished the sentence before he sneezes twice in rapid succession. Mikey makes a mental note that they have to buy some meds for him when they check out later.

“Kay, I think this should work.” The mattress dips with Gerard’s weight as he settles back in and looks at the TV, bottom lip caught between his teeth. When the movie starts up he lets it go and makes a small sound of triumph.

Mikey bites down on a smile and sits up a little more so he can see. Gerard and him used to watch horror movies all the time back at home and later in Gerard’s crappy apartment, so it’s not like Mikey has to actively pay attention to what’s happening on screen. It’s good background noise, combined with Gerard’s commentary and Frank’s giggles. More often than not Frank ends up coughing though. It sounds painful and Mikey turns so his head is resting on Gerard’s shoulder.

“’m gonna go to the pharmacy once we’re outa here, yeah?”

Gerard tries to look down at Mikey, eyes almost crossing, before he glances over at Frank and nods quickly. “Yeah. I’ll give you the money and take him to get some food.”

Mikey leans up and presses a kiss to the corner of Gerard’s lips, not only as a thank you but because his big brother is the best and sometimes Mikey’s chest aches because he loves him so much.

When he pulls back Mikey catches Frank looking at them. His eyes are wide and mouth hanging slightly open and when his eyes meet Mikey’s he looks away quickly and slides further down until he almost disappears under the covers.

Oh. Right. Not everyone is comfortable with GerardandMikey being, well, GerardandMikey. Mikey frowns and wraps his arm around Gerard’s middle, staying pressed to his side. He likes Frank and it’d suck if he turned out to be one of the assholes who’s got a problem with them.

Gerard’s hand rests on the small of Mikey’s back and he rubs circles, probably noticing that Mikey’s gone tense all of a sudden.

“You okay?” he mumbles, lips moving against Mikey’s forehead.

Mikey nods and closes his eyes, focusing on Gerard’s breathing and his warmth, the way his palm is slightly sweaty when he pushes his hand up under Mikey’s shirt.

When Gerard and Frank start talking again Mikey relaxes a little bit more, watching Frank over Gerard’s shoulder. He’s tone hasn’t changed, the only notable difference him glancing over at them more frequently. Try as he might, Mikey can’t find anything but curiosity in his face.

~

Once the movie finishes Frank falls asleep again, completely exhausted but happier than he’s been in a long time. He’s warm, the Ways are good company and Zero is curled up by his side, not showing any signs of injury after the incident with the douchebags. Today is definitely the least shitty day Frank’s had in over a year.

Still, when Gerard and Mikey get up Frank gets the kind of feeling he used to have as a kid on Sunday night. When you know that in a few hours it is going to be Monday and you’ll have to go back to school.

He curls up more, intent on making the most out of his last minutes here, watching Gerard rummaging through the backpack and handing something to Mikey’s. He’s got it hidden in the palm of his hand so Frank can’t see what it is, but Mikey’s retreat to the bathroom is hurried enough that he gets the picture. Frank pulls the blanket over his head before Gerard can see him watching. He feels like an intruder whenever he watches the brothers together because it feels like he’s looking in on something fragile and private.

After a few minutes the shower starts up in the bathroom and Frank can hear Zero snuffling around the room and Gerard moving around. His breathing is loud under the covers and it gets uncomfortably stuffy. Pushing them back Frank draws in a deep breath of cool air, which upsets his stupid fucking useless lungs.

Rolling to the side Frank closes his eyes as his body convulses with the force of the coughs. He’s glad he didn’t eat anything or else he’d be throwing up all over the bed. There’s a hand on his back and Frank flinches at first, tries to move away from it, until he remembers that most likely it’s Gerard and it’s okay. He’s safe. Gerard’s hand rubs calming circles on his back and Frank focuses on that. Eventually he can breathe again.

“Man, we really gotta get you some medication.” Gerard mumbles and helps Frank to lie back down, propped up by the lumpy pillow. Frank suddenly misses his mom. Well, he always misses her, but especially when he’s sick.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles, ignoring the way his voice cracks and betrays him. He doesn’t want to spell it out for Gerard that he doesn’t have the money for medication.

Zero’s wet nose presses against his elbow and Frank lifts his arm, smiling when Zero worms his way in until he’s pressed between Frank’s armpit and side. He looks up at Frank with earnest eyes before he sighs and pushes his nose into Frank’s armpit, making him giggle.

“Your dog is ridiculous.” Gerard looks fond as he says it and reaches over to pat Zero’s side before he gets up. “You nap some more, I’ll wake you up when we have to leave.”

“’kay.” Frank’s down with that plan. Every additional minute spent in bed is going to be a good minute.

It seems like only seconds have passed since Frank closed his eyes when someone touches his shoulder and he startles awake.

“Hey.” Mikey smiles down warily at Frank. He’s wearing a generous amount of eyeliner and for a few seconds Frank finds himself transfixed by the black setting off Mikey’s hazel eyes and sleepy eyelids.

“Time to go.”

Frank blinks rapidly and finally manages to tear his eyes away from Mikey’s, sitting up slowly and jostling Zero awake in the process. The dog looks around in confusion before he yawns widely and grumpily gets up.

“M’kay.” Frank tries to blink the confusion away, but he continues to feel woozy and like his head is full of cotton. Mikey turns away and packs his own belongings while Frank struggles back into his many layers and shoulders his backpack, trying not to acknowledge how his limbs protest each movement. He feels sore and standing alone is too much of a fucking effort.

“We ready?” Gerard asks, coming out of the bathroom and running a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. At the assertive silence he nods and takes the backpack from Mikey. “Okay, cool. I’m gonna go to the pharmacy and you guys get coffee or something. I’ll meet you at Starbucks.”

Frank wants to protest, but if he’s being honest, he doesn’t even have the strength for that. He’ll pay Gerard and Mikey back later, he’s going to find a way. Steal a few wallets or something. Because right now? Frank would sell his soul for a bottle of Tylenol. 

Before he even has to consider the tedious task of leaning down (a movement bound to make his sinuses explode) Mikey grabs Zero’s leash from the floor and clips it to the band around Zero’s neck. With his free hand he reaches out and takes Frank’s hand, pulling him out of the room.

Frank willingly lets himself be guided, stumbling over his own feet a few times. The way to Starbucks is a blur and he barely manages to keep his eyes open. All he knows is that he’s shivering again, the cold hitting him hard after the warmth of the hotel room.

“You sit down, I’ll get the drink,” Mikey says and suddenly there is warmth again. Frank sinks down in a free seat with a sigh, not even caring if Mikey is going to leave him or not. He can just curl up here and sleep until they throw him out.

“Frank. Hey, Frankie, c’mon.”

Frank grumbles and swats at Mikey’s hand jostling his shoulder.

“C’mon, I got you tea, you gotta drink something.”

And oh, okay. That actually sounds great. Frank swallows against the dryness in his throat and forces his eyes open, wincing at the too harsh light inside the coffee shop intensifying his headache. There’s a huge, steaming mug in front of him on the table and Frank looks at it for a long while before he can talk himself into moving and taking it. The ceramic is hot against his fingers.

Frank takes a tiny sip. He can’t taste the tea at all, but it is warm and soothes his throat, so he keeps sipping, wishing the mug would magically refill itself.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed when there’s another presence, causing Frank to open his eyes and stop his rhythmic sipping. The tip of Gerard’s nose is red from the cold and he’s talking to Mikey in hushed tones as he sets out the contents of a white plastic bag on the table. Mikey and him then start opening all the boxes and bottles, read instructions and discuss how much of what Frank should take when.

It makes Frank’s head spin, so he closes his eyes again and sips the rest of his tea. It has gone lukewarm, which makes it much less amazing.

“Okay.” Gerard is speaking a little louder now, which Frank guesses is his cue to join in on the conversation. He swallows hard once more before he sits up a little straighter and tries to focus.

“I got general flu stuff, and cough syrup, and tissues and Strepsils for your throat. I didn’t know which kind you liked best, but I figure it’s cold outside anyway so I got the ones with the warming effect,” he explains, pointing out packets and bottles to Frank that all become a jumbled mess of colors as his vision swims. “We’re gonna start with these, and you can take the cough syrup up to five times a day. Another dose of these before we leave and then we’ll see how you feel when we’re done with work.”

All Frank can do is nod and take the pills Gerard hands him. His throat is so swollen that he barely manages to swallow them.

Frank leans back and curls up again, trying to listen to the hushed conversation of the brothers, but zoning out involuntarily and falling into a sort of half-sleep.

“’m just not gonna buy any cigarettes today. And we can cut back on food?”

“Can do without food. We still got enough for some weed at least?”

“Yeah, yeah. I put money for you aside already, don’t worry about it.”

Frank licks his cracked lips and turns his head to the side. “Imma pay you back,” he mumbles, feeling even more miserable now that it is back at the forefront of his mind what kind of trouble they are getting themselves in for him. Sure, they got more money than Frank does, a lot more money, but they’ve budgeted it and now there is a Frank-sized hole in their finances.

“We can talk about that later, Frank.” Why does Gerard sound so much like his mom? Frank huffs.

“We still got some time, so try and get some more sleep.”

Okay, Frank can totally do that. And then they’ll talk. After his nap.

~

Leaving Frank behind feels terrible. Mikey keeps glancing back to the alley they left him in as they walk down the street. They’d bundled up Frank as much as possible and decided that this would be the best place for him to stay because it is a fairly safe area, yet close to where they work. Zero had curled up in Frank’s lap immediately and Gerard had handed him the tall cup of tea he had bought while Mikey got Frank settled. For now it’s all they can do.

For a while they had considered getting a motel room right away and letting Frank stay there for the night, but truth is, they don’t have the cash for that many hours. Depending on what they make tonight, maybe they can stay at the motel until tomorrow late afternoon. It’s only a small consolation.

Mikey is freezing but he left his coat with Frank to keep him warmer and because fewer clothes always mean more johns. Besides, Frank is going to have to sit out in the cold for hours while Mikey is going to get breaks from it.

Hands in the pockets of his jeans and hoodie hanging unzipped, Mikey tries not to pace or bounce on the balls of his feet to keep a little warmer. Being jittery never looks good. His t-shirt has ridden up a little and a shiver wrecks Mikey’s body. He grabs the hem and pulls it down again, but the thin material barely wards off the cold.

“Mikey.” Gerard’s voice is low and he glances at a car that’s pulled to a halt in front of them. Mikey’s eyes dart to the car, a silver BMW, and he licks his lips, nods.

“I’m going to take that one.”

“You sure?”

Mikey nods again and pushes away from the wall and walks over to the car slowly. Customers like to get a good look at the goods.

The passenger window of the car opens and the driver leans over, a guy in his forties with slicked-back hair and large glasses. He looks shy and nervous, which is rarely a good sign. Mikey has encountered more than enough people like him. Shy on the outside and then they spend money on prostitutes to make their fantasies come true. Some of the stuff they want is plain weird, which Mikey can deal with, but most of them are simply not safe.

“How. . . how much for you and the redhead?” The man tilts his chin in Gerard’s direction. Mikey glances over his shoulder, Gerard’s cue to walk over. There are pros and cons to taking a client together. On the one hand it is safer, but on the other it feels like the last bit of privacy they’ve retained is being exposed.

“300 for an hour,” Mikey replies once Gerard is next to him, facing the man again. It’s better if he doesn’t look at his brother now. “More if you want extras.”

The john licks his lips, wipes his sweaty palms in his jeans. “What qualifies as extras?”

Gerard leans forward, underarms on the edge of the window, ass in the air. As if the john needs more convincing.

“How ‘bout you tell us what you want and we’ll tell you what it’ll cost you?” The smile on Gerard’s face is fake, the one he uses on customers all the time. They want Gerard because he can be charming but has attitude. They want Mikey because he’s awkward and boyish.

“What if I want you to fuck him?” The man looks between Gerard and Mikey with barely concealed excitement.

Gerard’s eyes flicker sideways, but he doesn’t look at Mikey. “You only wanna watch?” The blunt question startles the john and Mikey bites down on a grin. Not a wise move, provoking guys like him.

“I. . . yes. No. I mean.” The man is squirming in his seat, making all of Mikey’s alarm bells ring.

“I don’t want to fuck you.”

Gerard nods, like he’s making a casual business deal, taking the inventory. “Want to get fucked?”

“No!” The man spits, rage flashing across his face at the suggestion alone.

“Right,” Gerard shrugs, but Mikey can see the way he grinds his teeth. “Wanna touch?”

The john considers and nods. It’s the worst possible combination of things he could want and they both know it. But if he’s willing to pay the ridiculous amount of money they are going to charge him? They’ll do it. The money will get them food, supply Mikey with drugs, Frank with medication and get them a motel room.

Gerard is tense, but he’s still smiling, keeping on a pleasant face. “500. If you want to do more than just touch, 600.”

Mikey holds his breath, certain that the guy is going to yell at them before speeding away.

For a long moment there is silence, then the john nods slowly. “Better be worth it,” he mutters, motioning for them to get into the car.

Gerard’s smile widens. “You bet we are.”

~

Mikey is leaning against Gerard’s side in the backseat of the car, eyes half-closed. The radio is on at a low volume, failing to cut through the tense silence.

“Okay if I drop you off here?” It’s clear that the john wants to get rid off them as quickly as possible now that they’re done.

“Sure,” Gerard mumbles, squeezing Mikey’s hand. Mikey’s got no idea where they are, but they can back to where they need to be one way or another, it doesn’t matter. The car pulls to a halt and Mikey and Gerard get out, neither of them saying a word. The car speeds off as soon as Mikey pushes the door closed behind him.

For a few seconds they both stand there, inhaling and exhaling shakily. Gerard’s hold on Mikey’s hand is painfully tight.

“Hey,” Mikey mumbles, stepping forward so he is chest-to-chest with Gerard and presses a kiss to the corner of his lips. “We’re okay.”

Things could’ve gone far worse with the john. He only wanted to see them fuck, getting himself off while muttering insults. If Mikey were to guess he’d say the dude hates himself for being gay.

Once he’d gotten off his insults had grown more vicious, accompanied by kicks and punches as he dragged them off the bed.

Mikey’s had to do worse things, but it’s easier to deal with bruises and aching limbs than with the hot burn of shame. Taking a client with Gerard always makes Mikey feel more vulnerable, amplifying the queasy feeling in his stomach. He couldn’t pretend that it was just the two of them with the constant background noise of grunts and hateful words that Mikey knows are not true, but which hurt all the same.

“We are. We got a fuckload of money,” Gerard points out, his smile shaky around the edges as he rubs his thumb over the thin skin under Mikey’s eye, wiping away smudged eyeliner. The guy gave them 550 bucks, which is less than the 600 they agreed on, but still enough to buy everything they need. It’s early and they could easily add another 100 with alley blowjobs, but Mikey is restless already, wanting to get back to Frank. Temperatures have dropped even more and Mikey’s starting to shake from the cold.

“You get food and stuff and I’ll get Frank?”

“Meet at the motel,” Gerard nods and kisses Mikey again, possessive and deep like he wants to reassure him. It helps, at least a little.

~

Something is beginning to scratch at the edges of Frank’s consciousness and he groans, curls more into himself. Being asleep is great because he doesn’t feel cold or miserable, and he desperately wants to drop back into that comforting warmth. Waking up a little makes him shiver and attempt to burrow more into his ratty blanket.

“Frank.” Someone is shaking his shoulder. “Frank.” That someone is really fucking persistent and Frank would totally tell them to fuck off if his throat didn’t hurt so much. “Frank.” Now that someone is cupping his cheek with cold fingers.

“Gngh.” Frank forces his eyes open, blinking against the darkness and the splitting headache descending down on him like a screeching eagle. He inhales shakily and squeezes his eyes shut until the pain settles a little and he doesn’t feel like he has to throw up anymore.

“Let’s get you into bed.”

Mikey arranges the blanket around Frank’s shoulders like a cape and helps him up.

“You done already?” Frank mumbles, leaning heavily against Mikey and pulling the blanket around himself. His teeth are chattering and he’s shaking so badly that it feels like his body is falling apart. He’ll be like Sally in Nightmare before Christmas and Mikey and Gerard will have to sew him back together.

Frank giggles at the thought and stumbles over his own feet. Mikey’s arm around his waist is like a safety belt.

“Zero, c’mon. Good boy.”

Frank pries his eyes open again and squints at the ground. “We can’t forget Zero,” he agrees, attempting to bend down and pick up the dog. The pain in his head explodes and he vomits before he even comprehends what is happening.

It feels like his throat is being torn into fleshy pieces and his stomach muscles contract and spasm. It seems like an eternity of pain passes before he can breathe again. If Mikey weren’t steading him, Frank’s sure he would be falling to the ground.

Mikey isn’t saying stupid shit like ‘It’s okay’ or ‘Breathe’, but waits until Frank is done before pushing him forward.

“I’ve got Zero, don’t worry.”

Frank nods and closes his eyes, blindly stumbling along. He doesn’t care where Mikey takes him. All he knows is that it’s taking too long and Frank needs to sit down _now_.

“Frank, no.” Mikey keeps his arm firmly around Frank’s waist and holds him up. Mikey is fucking mean.

“You’re fucking mean,” Frank mumbles and keeps stumbling on.

“They’re gonna give us shit if we go in like this, so I need you to be coherent for thirty seconds, just till we make it to the elevator.” Mikey’s fingers are poking Frank’s side. Frank grumbles and tries to squirm away.

“Frank, c’mon. There’s a shower and a bed waiting for you. All you gotta do is stop pretending you’re a bag of flour.”

“Bed.” Frank smiles at the thought. Maybe the bed is going to feel like a cloud again. He’d like that.

Frank opens his eyes, sways a little on his feet before he straightens his back and walks into the motel. He makes a beeline for the elevator, not noticing anything else around him. He’s sweating despite the cold and walking upright is an effort Frank knows he won’t be able to keep up for long.

Once he reaches the elevator he paws at the buttons, eyes unfocused. Fuck, he’s so tired and the room is spinning. Not that it would matter if he puked on the carpet; it’s so ugly nobody would notice.

“Hey, hey let me do that.”

Gerard is there all of a sudden and reaches around Frank to press the elevator button.

Frank’s got no idea where he came from, but wiggles his fingers in a wave.

“Hi. Mikey says there’ll be a cloud.”

“Hey Frankie.” Gerard rubs the small of Frank’s back, which feels kind of nice but would feel even nicer if Frank wasn’t wearing all those layers. Before he can start unbuttoning the coat Mikey gave him the elevator door opens with a shrill _ding_ and Frank groans, closing his eyes against the bright light.

“Almost there.” Gerard’s hand presses against his back and Frank shuffles forward into the elevator, keeping his eyes firmly closed. His stomach lurches when the elevator starts moving and Frank swallows against the taste of bile.

Zero whines and Frank instinctively turns toward the sound, opening his eyes despite the pain exploding behind his eyeballs at the light. “He doesn’t like elevators,” he mumbles and reaches out a shaky hand to scratch behind Zero’s ears. The dog squirms in Mikey’s arms.

Oh.

Frank turns and squints at the buttons before he starts pressing the one to make the elevator go down to the ground floor again.

“Frank? Frank. What’re you doing?” Gerard takes a hold of his hand and Frank struggles for a few seconds before he looks up at Gerard.

“I forgot to get food for Zero.” Frank is the worst human being alive. He _never_ forgets to get food for Zero. Never. How could he have been so careless? For a second he feels like crying.

Wrenching his hand away from Gerard’s Frank turns again, swaying on his feet, and reaches for Zero, taking him from Mikey and holding him close, nose burrowed in Zero’s stiff fur.  
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Frank mumbles, swaying when the elevator comes to a halt. “I’m sorry. I’ll get you food now. I promise. I won’t ever forget again. I’m sorry.” It’s all Frank can think about and he wants to punch himself in the face. Zero is his best friend and Frank _forgot_.

Sniffling he holds the squirming bundle of dog even closer, rooted to the spot.

“Frank. Frankie. Hey, it’s okay. Frank.”

Gerard is repeating his name and Frank’s got the feeling he’s been talked to for a while already. Eyes hot with unshed tears he looks up at Gerard standing in front of him, smiling gently and reaching out, putting his hands on Frank’s upper arms.

“It’s okay, Frankie. We got food for Zero, all right? You still had some and Mikey packed it, remember?”

Frank doesn’t, but he nods shakily and presses a kiss to the top of Zero’s head.

Gerard steps half behind Frank and pushes him gently forward. Mikey is standing between the elevator doors to hold them open and Gerard steers Frank past him and down the corridor.

“You hear that? You’ll get food in a minute,” Frank mumbles to Zero as he let’s himself be led to the room. Zero’s calmed down and whines softly before licking Frank’s chin. Frank giggles and burrows his face in the dog’s fur again. He’ll buy more food tomorrow - steal food if he has to - but for today there still is something for Zero. His dog not going hungry is the most important thing. 

Gerard unlocks a door and Frank shuffles inside without so much as looking around, making a straight line for the bed. He sits down and sighs heavily, sinking into himself. He’s so exhausted he’s shaking.

Zero squirms to be let down and Frank leans forward with a groan and sets the dog down on the floor. Zero sets off immediately, sniffing at the carpet and exploring the room.

“Where’s. . . do you have my things?” Frank isn’t even sure that he _has_ things. He doesn’t own anything besides Zero, but he thinks he had a few little things. Maybe. All he needs is a can of food for Zero anyway.

“Don’t worry, Mikey’s going to feed Zero.” Gerard is there again, kneeling in front of Frank and untying the dirty laces of his sneakers. “Let’s get you into bed. It’s time for your meds too.”

“Oh. Yeah. I like those,” Frank says, wiggling his toes once his shoes are off. He’s still shaking, part exhaustion and part being cold. He protests weakly when Gerard unbuttons Mikey’s coat and pushes it off Frank’s shoulders, but in the end he closes his eyes and let’s himself be undressed like a puppet.

There’s the sound of a can opening and the smell of dog food, which makes Frank’s already queasy stomach churn. The sounds of Zero gulping down his food are reassuring though and Frank scoots back when Gerard tells him to and gets under the blankets.

He sinks down with a sigh, too tired to keep upright, or awake.

“Don’t fall asleep just yet.” There’s a hand in his neck, making him move his head up and Frank grumbles.

“You can sleep in a minute, Frankie, I promise. Just take your meds and drink some water first, okay? You’ll feel better when you wake up then.”

Frank obediently opens his mouth and swallows the pills down with some trouble, coughing slightly.

“That’s a good boy.” Someone is caressing his cheek and Frank leans into it with a weak sniffle. He wants his mom.

“Does your throat still hurt?”

Frank makes a nonsensical noise, which is apparently taken as agreement because a second later there’s a Strepsil in his mouth. A slightly chemical strawberry taste fills his mouth and Frank sucks on the lozenge. His throat is starting to feel wonderfully numb.

When the Strepsil is thin enough Frank bites down on it, chews, swallows. He doesn’t want to fall asleep with a lozenge in his mouth, that’s just calling for a patch of drool. His tongue glides over his teeth to get rid of the sticky residue and then he rubs his cheek against the pillow with a small sigh.

Sleep time.

~

Frank’s asleep and Mikey wishes Gerard would unmute the TV to drown out the noises Frank makes, taking rattling breaths and snuffling every now and then. Zero isn’t much better, curled up next to Frank and snoring at a volume that should be impossible to achieve for a tiny dog.

The TV is as shitty as the room, color balance completely off, but Mikey blankly watches anyway without taking anything in.

Gerard is curled up next to him on the bed and if Mikey didn’t know his brother inside out he’d think he was asleep. Gerard’s breathing is a tad too shallow and he’s lying too still. When Gerard’s asleep he constantly moves and twitches. It used to drive Mikey crazy when they were kids. Now he loves it because it’s a reminder that his brother is still here and relatively well, considering the circumstances.

“Whadup?” Mikey bumps his foot against Gerard’s without taking his eyes off the screen.

“Hm.” Gerard hums in reply and pushes closer to Mikey, nose pressing against Mikey’s shoulder. “Hungry.” As if on command Gerard’s stomach rumbles loudly.

Mikey frowns and shifts to his side, poking at his brother’s stomach. He isn’t hungry, never really is. The next hit is always more important than the next meal.

“When’d you eat last?”

Gerard pulls one shoulder up in an awkward shrug and nuzzles at Mikey’s shoulder.

“Depends. I mean, technically cum’s got protein and shit too, right?”

Mikey exhales slowly and closes his eyes, trying to breathe through the wave of guilt. It’s his fault they have no food because he was the one to bring Frank along. And he should have noticed that Gerard wasn’t eating, should’ve taken care of him. But he’s failed, like always. He’s fucking useless.

“Sorry, Gee,” Mikey mumbles, rubbing Gerard’s stomach. “I’ll. . . I’ll get you something to eat.”

“Gonna order me room service?” Gerard asks, lips moving against Mikey’s skin.

“Yeah,” Mikey nods, keeping his eyes closed. Maybe they’ll be in a better place when he opens them again. “I’d order you coffee and pancakes.”

“Pancakes, huh?” Gerard’s lips curve into a smile.

“Gotta start with dessert, otherwise it’s no fun,” Mikey points out, because duh, that should be obvious. “And then I’d order you steak as main course. Well-done.”

“Fries on the side?”

“Fries on the side,” Mikey agrees. His brother’s got weird tastes that he’s more than willing to indulge.

“Then we need a starter to finish.”

“Do we?” Mikey wrinkles his nose. “You don’t like soup. Bread and cheese?”

“I love cheese.” Gerard sighs dreamily and his stomach rumbles again. Mikey catches his bottom lip between his teeth and drums his fingers against Gerard’s hipbone. They can’t leave Frank alone, so he’ll have to go on his own. Mikey slowly pries his eyes open and stares at the water stain on the ceiling while working up the motivation to get up.

“Be back in a bit,” he mutters once he’s sat up, pointedly ignoring the look Gerard gives him.

“Where you going?” Gerard doesn’t like leaving Mikey out of sight, but it’s not like Mikey’s got the kind of money that enable him to go on an epic bender. It’s not like Mikey’s got money to buy a sandwich.

“Just gotta check something.” Mikey swings his legs over the side of the bed and puts his boots back on, back turned to Gerard. The laces keep slipping from his fingers even as he tries to concentrate on coordinating his fingers, and in the end he gives up with a frustrated sigh and stuffs them up the side of the boots.

“Mikey.” Gerard’s using his big brother voice, the one that’s apparently an innate skill. Back in the day he only used to bring it out when Mikey attempted to read comics with peanut butter-sticky fingers.

“I’ll be fine,” Mikey snaps. He loves Gerard, but his overprotectiveness gets annoying. Mikey’s not some kind of stupid child. “Trust me, okay?” he adds, voice gone back to his usual monotone when Gerard doesn’t reply. He can feel his brother’s eyes burning a hole into the back of his neck and projecting guilty thoughts into his mind.

“You won’t be long?”

“I won’t be long,” Mikey agrees and puts on Gerard’s hoodie.

“Don’t worry.”

Gerard studies Mikey’s face before he nods jerkily and leans forward for a quick kiss. “I trust you.”

Instead of a reply Mikey leans in for a longer kiss, a reassurance he can’t find the words for.

“Just make sure he doesn’t die in his sleep,” Mikey says, nodding towards Frank while he zips up the hoodie and pulls the hood up over his head. Zero is awake and watching him, head tilted to the side like he’s asking what the fuck Mikey thinks he’s doing.

“Wanna go for a walk?” Mikey looks around for the leash and as soon as he picks it up Zero jumps down from the bed, wagging his tail excitedly.

Putting a leash on an overly excited dog is tricky, but eventually Mikey manages.

“Not taking a key.”

Gerard makes a noise that Mikey takes as acknowledgement. As soon as he opens the door Zero runs out, almost toppling Mikey over. “Dude,” he mumbles and pulls the door closed behind them, tightening his hold on the leash and pulling Zero in the direction of the elevator.

The heating in the motel isn’t very good, yet stepping outside feels like an icy fist punching Mikey in the face. He tries to breathe more shallowly when the cold air hurts his lungs and huddles into the hoodie.

“You don’t come with a built in navigation system, do you?” Mikey asks Zero, who ignores him in favor of sniffing the ground.

Mikey vaguely knows whereabouts the soup kitchen is and starts to walk in the general direction, hoping that this won’t end in an hour long search. Gerard is going to freak if he isn’t back soon.

Zero trots along next to him, stopping every few feet to sniff on walls, lampposts or dumpsters. When they pass a bus stop the dog seems to find the answer to all his prayers and strains against the leash until Mikey stops.

“What?”

Zero sniffs at the bus stop sign before he raises one of his back legs and pees against the metal pole.

One of the women sitting on the bench and waiting for the bus clears her throat and glares at Mikey. Mikey stares back blankly until she looks away, muttering something under her breath.

When Zero’s done he shakes himself and looks up at Mikey.

“Good boy,” Mikey says, a little louder than necessary, and walks on. If dogs were rock stars, Zero would be their king.

“Guess that was almost like throwing a TV out of a hotel room, yeah? Since you can’t really throw a TV and all,” Mikey muses. He hopes Frank’ll let him take the dog for walks more often.

The city changes the closer they get to the soup kitchen, as if the buildings and streets have soaked up the troubles of the inhabitants of this part of town. The buildings are shabbier, the streets dirtier, the noises harsher.

Mikey knows the corner store, he and Gerard buy their cigarettes there sometimes. He also knows that there is a really shitty motel two blocks away and Frank’s alley is to the right. But Mikey’s got no idea where the soup kitchen is supposed to be.

He doesn’t necessarily want to ask anyone, wary of people, but there’s a girl leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette with a defiant look. She’s got the unhealthy look of someone who’s grown a lot in a short amount of time, her shabby clothes hanging from her thin frame.

“Hey, sorry.”

She looks up at Mikey and her eyes widen for a second before she adapts a defensive stance. She’ll have to learn not to let people see her surprise.

“What?”

“You know where the soup kitchen is?”

The girl looks Mikey up and down before she shrugs. “Up that street, first left and then right.”

Mikey nods his thanks and tugs on Zero’s leash, snorting when the dog whines. “It’s not far anymore.” He always suspected that Frank is spoiling Zero.

He’s almost starting to think that the girl sent him in the wrong direction, because there doesn’t seem to be anything in the street Mikey ends up in, but then he hears voices around the corner. A few people are huddled together outside a door, smoking. Squaring his shoulders Mikey walks past them and pushes open the door, pretending that he knows what he’s doing.

Inside it’s stuffy and Mikey takes a second to reveal in the warmth. The smell of food is wafting through the air, overpowering the stink of people. Mikey’s stomach remains impassive.

The tables in the room are full with people enjoying what is most likely their only meal of the day. There are only a few people in the queue but the lady handing out plates of food looks kind of pissed. A guy wearing an apron and an Iron Maiden shirt is stacking dirty dishes in a basket and Mikey walks over on a whim. Somebody wearing a band shirt and sporting hair like that can’t be a bad person.

“Hi.” Mikey isn’t good at this kind of stuff, but he keeps thinking about Gerard and feeling guilty, which is enough to keep him going.

“Hey,” the guy glances over and smiles, putting another plate away before he straightens up.  
“Can I help you?”

He’s got a friendly face and a surprisingly high voice for a guy of his build and Mikey thinks he’s got a good chance with him. But then the guy’s face suddenly falls and closes off as he looks down.

Shit. Mikey should’ve left Zero outside.

“That your dog?”

Zero is already sniffling at the guy’s shoes before whining and pushing his nose against his shin.

“Shit. I’m sorry.” Mikey tugs on the leash and tries to get Zero away from the man. “He isn’t usually like this.” Which is a blatant lie, but it sounds like the thing to say.

“Is he yours?” The man repeats and there’s an edge to his voice that makes Mikey pull his shoulders up uncomfortably.

“Kinda, yeah.” What the fuck does it matter to the guy?

Mikey is starting to think he should’ve gone for the dragon lady instead.

“No he’s not.” The guy is straightening up even more and it’s intimidating. “Where’s Frank?”

And _oh_. Now it makes sense.

“Frank’s sick,” Mikey replies, starring at the guy and trying not to blink. “We’re looking after him.”

The guy looks skeptical but a little bit of tension drains from his shoulders.

“You’re Ray?”

“I. . . yeah.” That seems to do the trick because the guy’s voice goes soft again. “Frankie okay?”

“Kinda,” Mikey shrugs. He’s not one to tell lies only to make people feel better. Except for when it’s Gerard, but Gerard’s not people, so. “Can you give me food? For Frank and my brother?”

“Does this look like a take away restaurant?” Ray retorts, but a second later he looks like he’s about to apologize.

“Not like I could bring them here,” Mikey points out and sniffs, wrinkling his nose. It’s starting to itch.

“Please?” Mikey hates asking for things, but Gerard and Frank really, really need food.

“I. Fine. I’ll see what I can do.” Ray tucks a strand of curly hair behind his ear before lifting up the basket full of dirty dishes. “Wait here.”

Mikey nods and briefly considers sitting down, but there are too many people squished together on the benches. Instead he picks Zero up and walks over to wait close by the door, leaning against the wall. Zero is wagging his tail and squirming in Mikey’s arms, apparently excited to be here. Or just excited about all the different smells, who knows.

It feels like ages until Ray comes back, but he’s carrying a plastic bag, which makes Mikey hope it was worth the wait.

“Here. I put some plastic forks in as well, figured you’d need them.” Ray doesn’t say it in a mean way but Mikey still wants to punch him. He hates people acting charitable.

“Thanks.” Mikey bends down to put Zero back on the ground, sniffing again. A drop of blood lands on the floor and Mikey notices the gross, wet feeling that always comes with a nosebleed. Fuck. His timing couldn’t be any worse. Straightening up he pulls the sleeve of the hoodie over his fingers, mentally apologizing to Gerard, and wipes his nose. He can’t see anything on the black material, but he can feel the blood smudged on his skin.

He’s about to ask Ray for a napkin but stops with his mouth half-open. Ray is looking positively livid, for reasons Mikey can’t figure out.

“Here.” He thrusts the bag at Mikey, who has to scramble to take it and not let it fall to the floor. “Make sure Frank eats. And don’t come back here.”

Ray turns and walks away before Mikey’s able to form a coherent reply. “What the fuck?” he mutters, shifting his grip so he’s holding the bag and Zero’s leash properly and pressing his other hand back to his nose. Now he’ll need extra money to do laundry. As much as he loves drawing it, Gerard is squeamish about actual blood on his clothes.

“C’mon, let’s go.” Mikey mumbles, quickly pressing his lips together when he feels a droplet of blood on his upper lip. It’s not that he minds blood in general, like every other person he’s licked drops of blood from his fingers after a papercut and stuff, but blood from a nosebleed is fucking gross, coming from a place full of snot.

Mikey shoulders the door open and keeps his head down while walking, steps speeding up as the hoodie grows damp against his fingers.

~

It’s not that Gerard doesn’t trust Mikey. No, he’d trust Mikey with his _life_. But the problem is that Gerard doesn’t trust Mikey with Mikey’s life. Because Mikey is bad at looking after himself and he’s an addict. It’s the worst possible combination.

But Gerard is good at looking after Mikey and watching out for him. He’s learnt to ration Mikey’s doses to make sure he’s got enough but not too much. Gerard knows all about being an addict, which makes him worry. Worry that Mikey is craving more, because you’re always craving more, and that he’s gone to get more on his own. Gerard’s got a good dealer, has made sure that Mikey doesn’t know him. Brian is a nice guy and the stuff he sells is good quality, but in the end they all are who they are. Brian wouldn’t think twice about selling Mikey as much as he wants and can afford.

Gerard would like to think that Mikey won’t betray him like that, that he’d tell Gerard if he needed more, but he’s rational enough to know that Mikey wouldn’t. He also knows that it’s not because Mikey doesn’t love him, but that it’s addiction driving him.

Biting his bottom lip Gerard picks at a hangnail, trying to keep himself busy and refrain from checking the time on the TV again. The minutes have been crawling by.

On the other bed Frank stirs and one of his hands pushes out from under the blanket, searching the mattress. “’ro?”

Gerard jumps at the opportunity to occupy himself and slides down from the bed, knee-walking over to Frank’s bed. “Hey.” After a moment of brief hesitation he reaches out and takes Frank’s hand. Frank’s eyes are still closed and it looks like he’s got trouble breathing.

Frank’s eyelids flutter, but he only squints at Gerard for a second before closing them again, tongue darting out to lick over cracked lips. “Zero?”

“Mikey’s taken him for a walk.” Gerard explains, catching himself talking extra slow. It seems like Frank’s brain isn’t taking in things at normal speed and he doesn’t want him to panic.

“’kay.”

Frank’s voice is completely wrecked.

“Here, drink something.” Gerard takes the bottle of water from the nightstand and opens it, then awkwardly helps Frank to raise his head and take a few sips.

“It’s not time for your medication yet.”

Frank only hums in reply and sinks back down, sniffing in a truly disgusting way.

“Thanks.”

“Sure. Lemme know if you want more water.” Gerard screws the lid back onto the bottle, knowing that otherwise Mikey or him are going to inevitably push it over.

“No. I mean. For everything.” Frank’s speaking slowly, like his tongue is too heavy, and Gerard has to listen really closely to understand him.

“Oh. Sure. That’s okay,” he shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Mikey likes you.”

Frank turns his face into the pillow and coughs, then forces his eyes open. It looks like a lot of effort.

“Mikey’s really awesome,” he mumbles, looking up directly at Gerard. “Why don’t you like me?”

“I. . . what?” Gerard frowns. Frank opens his mouth to presumably repeat his question. He looks completely exhausted. Mikey is going to kill Gerard if he comes back and finds Frank passed out from talking too much.

“No, I mean, why’d you think I don’t like you?” Not that Gerard is exceptionally fond of Frank, but he doesn’t hate him. He makes Mikey smile, so he’s okay to have around.

Frank shrugs and his mouth works like he’s trying to say something but his vocal chords refuse to cooperate.

“’m takin’ your money,” he finally manages, followed by a coughing fit. Gerard pulls Frank into a more upright position, hoping that it’ll make things a little easier. It sounds painful and Gerard winces, sitting down on the edge of the bed so Frank can lean on him. When the cough subsides he’s left breathing hard, face red.

“Fuck money, ‘s not important.” Gerard rubs the small of Frank’s back, making a face when his fingertips brush sweat-slick skin where Frank’s shirt rode up. “We’ll have to get you healthy again. ‘sides, it’s Christmas soon and stuff, time of giving and being generous and shit.”

Frank cracks up a little at that, but he seems too exhausted to form a full laugh.

“You’re a Christmas Spirit then,” he mumbles, head lolling back against Gerard’s shoulder, “A really weird one, but that’s ‘kay.”

“I’m. . . glad,” Gerard replies because what the fuck is he supposed to say to that? It must be the fever talking. He pushes a damp strand of hair away from Frank’s forehead and tries to make him lie back down, but Frank refuses, twisting until his head is tucked under Gerard’s chin.

“Jus’ don’ disappear after Christmas, prom’se? Cuz I do kinda like you. I’ll make you like me too.” Frank whispers, fingers curling into Gerard’s shirt.

Gerard pats Frank’s head before he eases back, bringing them both into a mostly lying position. Frank is a tiny ball of heat against Gerard’s chest.

“I’ll stick around, promise.” Gerard closes his eyes and focuses on Frank’s breathing, adapting the same pattern as he tries to relax. He keeps rubbing Frank’s back, starts humming and banishes all worries from his mind.

~

It feels like the way back to the motel has gotten twice as long and by the time he pushes the button for the elevator Mikey is cranky, frozen to the bone, and his nose hurts like hell. The bleeding has stopped, but the crusted blood is itching on his skin.  
Mikey doesn’t bother to knock but kicks his foot against the door instead, rubbing his thumb under his nose. A little of the crusted blood gets stuck under his thumbnail and Mikey pulls a face. Seriously gross.

“Gee, c’mon,” he huffs and knocks his elbow against the door. He can hear shuffling inside the room. Zero whines and scratches at the door.

“I know. You’d think he’d try and move a little faster,” Mikey mutters, leaning his forehead against the door and closing his eyes. He’s feeling like shit and only wants to wash up and crawl under the blankets, close his eyes and wait until the cold seeps out of his bones.

When he hears the key turning in the lock Mikey takes a step back, blinking owlishly. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep, but his eyelids feel heavy and sore.  
Zero pushes his way into the room as soon as the door cracks open and Mikey lets the leash slip from hand. They can take it off after Zero’s checked on Frank.

“Mikey.” Gerard’s fingers curl into the hoodie’s sleeve and he pulls Mikey into the room, closing the door behind him.

“What the fuck happened?”

“Hm?” Mikey frowns at Gerard, confused for a second until Gerard brushes his fingertips over Mikey’s nose.

“Nosebleed,” he shrugs, ignoring the way Gerard’s lips curl into an unhappy line. “I brought food.” Mikey changes the topic and holds up the bag with a tiny smile. “For you and Frank.”

“What? How’d you-? What did you _do_?”

Mikey groans and rolls his eyes. Why can’t Gerard just accept it and be happy?

“Soup kitchen.” He didn’t really want to say it, but otherwise Gerard is going to get all these ideas about the terrible things Mikey might have done and work himself into a state. Nobody wants that to happen.

“It’s probably cold by now, but it’s food. Eat.” Mikey presses the bag into Gerard’s hand.

“Frank should eat something too,” he adds, glancing at the bed. Frank seems awake, but barely coherent as he pats Zero’s head slowly, lips twitching into a barely there smile when the dog noses at his neck and tries to crawl under Frank’s shirt.

Mikey goes into the bathroom before Gerard can fire more questions at him. A brief glance in the mirror makes him pull a face. He looks terrible. Not only because of the blood, but also because he’s pale and there are dark circles under his eyes that look like bruises. It’s a look that’ll attract the bad kind of customers. If he’s lucky Gerard’s got some concealer he can use.

Turning on the tap Mikey holds his fingers under the water while it warms up, ignoring the way it stings against his frozen skin. Grabbing some toilet paper Mikey wets it and starts clearing up, rubbing at his skin with a little more force than strictly necessary. His skin turns pink and the water rusty when he drops the wad of toilet paper in the sink.

“Mikey, you want something to eat?”

Mikey stares at his reflection for a few seconds longer before he turns away and heads back into the room. “Nah, ‘m good.”

He sits down on the bed and pulls off his shoes before squirming under the covers. Gerard is sitting on the other bed, Frank propped up next to him, and opens one of the Tupperware boxes from the bag.

“Oh, it’s spaghetti!”

“See, ‘m magic. Better than room service.” Mikey says, words muffled against the blanket.

“Course you’re magic,” Gerard agrees, followed by Frank giggling and adding “Magic like Tinkerbell!”

Mikey groans and peeks over the blanket. “How much medicine did you give him?”

Gerard shrugs and presses one of the plastic forks into Frank’s hand. “He’s been like that all afternoon. Hey, Mikes, you should eat something too.” Even with his eyes closed Mikey can tell that Gerard is talking with his mouth full and it’s disgusting, making his stomach turn. His relationship with food is a little shaky at the moment.

“’m good. Jus’ tired.”

“Oh. ‘kay.” There’s something in the way Gerard says it, but Mikey’s too exhausted to think about it. He sighs and rubs his cheek against the rough material of the pillow and curls up even more with the blanket, trying to warm up and resolutely not thinking about how nice it would be to curl up on the other bed with Gerard and Frank.

~

Frank gets better with the approximate speed of a grandpa driving a scooter. He’s a lot more coherent once the fever breaks, making him impatient. Frank _hates_ being sick and being a burden. The Ways would probably give him terribly sad looks if he said that out loud, but it’s how Frank feels. He doesn’t like relying on other people. Mikey and Gerard work hard for their money. It’s not fair that they have to spend it all on Frank. He’s going to find a way to make up for it.

Frank spends his nights plotting while curled up with Zero and waiting for Gerard and Mikey do be done with work. It’s not like he’s got much else to do, still too weak to go all the way to the soup kitchen. Walking to whatever motel the Ways can afford for the night is about as much as Frank can do at the moment.

“You’re no help at all,” Frank mutters, nuzzling Zero’s neck. The dog is curled up against Frank’s chest like an overly furry baby and snuffles happily. “They are nice to you as well and Mikey’s your best friend. You totally should help me think about a Christmas present.”  
Zero lifts his head and licks Frank’s cheek.

“Thanks, man,” Frank smiles and holds Zero a little tighter. “But I don’t think that’s a very good present, you know?”

Zero pushes his wet nose against Frank’s neck, making it clear that he disagrees.

The truth is that Frank doesn’t even know when Christmas is. Hell, he doesn’t even know what day it is. Only Gerard mentioning that it was Christmas soon clued him in. Ever since his mom died the holidays have bypassed Frank completely. There’s no point in acknowledging them if you have no one to celebrate with. He’s even ignored all the decorations in stores because they made his throat feel tight and stomach turn over, too many memories floating up in his mind to haunt him.

The only good thing about Christmas is that people are a little more generous. Sitting at a street corner next to a convenience store Frank manages to get five dollars in change within two hours. Even the desperate, running to the store at four AM, are generous around this time of the year.

Pocketing the money Frank moves back to the alley before the Ways arrive and throw a hissy fit. Gerard has turned into a mother hen, fanning over Frank and telling him to stay put every night before they leave for work, like Frank’s still green behind the ears. In a way it’s endearing because Frank hasn’t had anyone care for him like that in a long time. At the same time it’s starting to get annoying. Frank is perfectly capable of looking out for himself. And as good as it feels, Frank doesn’t need anyone. He’s fine on his own.

Because in the end? People always leave.

~

Work always slows down during the beginning of the holidays. The clients are too busy playing pretend with their families. It’s a shit time of the year, leaving them standing in the cold for hours without anyone showing interest.

Mikey sighs and flicks another cigarette butt to the ground. He’s already feeling nauseous, but smoking is the only thing keeping him busy and giving the illusion of some warmth.

“I don’t think we can afford a motel tonight.” Gerard says, looking straight ahead at the road, eyes following the cars speeding past.

“I know.” They’ve been lucky to stay in motels so many nights in a row. “We’ll deal,” Mikey pulls his shoulders up, tries not to think about the cold. The thought of going back to a motel and sleeping the morning away with Gerard, Frank and Zero there with him, safe and sound, was the only thing Mikey has been looking forward to lately.

“But I think if we try and get some extra, maybe we can get a room for Christmas Eve.” Gerard looks over at Mikey, lips curled up in an insecure smile.

“That’d be nice.” Mikey smiles even though the corners of his lips feel like they’re cracking. There is no time of the year that makes being a homeless whore worse than Christmas.

“It’ll just be something shitty, but we can manage. Maybe grab some extra money somewhere.” Gerard worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He hates stealing.

Mikey exhales slowly before he reaches over and grabs Gerard’s hand, holding on tight.  
“What if we cut back on my stuff?” It’s going to be shit because Mikey’s doses are precisely measured. They both know exactly how much Mikey needs to make it through the day.

Gerard’s quiet for a long time and Mikey looks down at a crack in the pavement, concentrating on his breathing.

“Mikey, are you sure?”

Mikey wants to say yes and be confident about it, but he can’t. It’s going to suck. He’s never considered cutting back on drugs before, even when Gerard got sober. The thought of having to deal with the world without the protective drug blanket wrapped around his mind is daunting. Just thinking about it makes Mikey want to throw up with nerves.

But Mikey’s got Gerard and Frank and maybe that’ll make everything all right, even without drugs. For the first time in years it seems like there is something that might be worth fighting for.

“Yeah,” Mikey replies eventually and Gerard holds his hand tighter.

“Okay. Okay, maybe, just a little. That’ll help.”

Mikey nods. They might be street urchins, but they can at least make a nice Christmas for themselves, like the shabbiest, weirdest family in the world.

~

“Breakfast,” Gerard says, waving a McDonald’s bag around, laughing when Zero gets to his feet with a yap and tries to jump Gerard. “Hi boy. Missed you too.”

Before Gerard gets a chance to pet Zero the dog has already moved on to say hello to Mikey.  
Frank watches with a smile from where he’s huddled against the wall, blanket up to his nose and hood pulled low. He’s always restless until Mikey and Gerard get back, trying not to  
imagine all the things that could happen to them.

“Awesome.” Frank shifts and pushes the blanket down a little when Gerard and Mikey sit down on either side of him. They press close and somehow manage to arrange the blanket so it covers all three of them. Zero worms his way between their feet and lies down with a self-satisfied sigh.

“Okay night?” Frank asks and clutches the cup of tea Mikey hands him. He still doesn’t quite know how to ask them if they’re all right, despite Gerard being painfully honest at all times, which makes threading around on egg shells unnecessary.

“Fucking slow,” Gerard huffs, shoving a fry into his mouth and licking salt from his fingers.

Frank’s mouth hangs open for a second before he manages to say, “Sucks.”

“Mhm.” Mikey leans his head against Frank’s shoulder and takes a sip of what smells like cocoa.

“You not eating anything?” Frank asks softly, holding his cup with one hand and trying to fumble open a McMuffin carton with the other.

“Nah, not really hungry.” Mikey mutters. This close up he smells like pot.

“Get some sleep, Mikes,” Gerard says, shifting against Frank’s side and looking at his brother. Mikey hums again, sounding like he’s already half asleep. Frank and Gerard finish their food in silence. Frank sips his tea slowly, but eventually not even his willpower can keep it warm and he drains the lukewarm remains.

“He’s thinking about cutting back,” Gerard says lowly, breaking the early morning silence that’s settled comfortably over them.

Mikey’s head is heavy on his shoulder and Frank tries to stay as still as possible, looking at Gerard from the corners of his eyes.

“Really?” Frank’s throat feels tight.

“Yeah,” Gerard nods and fumbles a cigarette out of a battered pack, leaving it perched between his lips without lighting it for a moment. “I. . . I want to believe it. I mean, I know he wants to, but I’m not sure,” he trails off and cups his hand in front of his mouth, lighting the cigarette.

“You’re not sure if he can do it?” Frank asks, his hand seeking Mikey’s arm under the blanket, fingers curling into the sleeves of Mikey’s coat. “He can do it. I know it.”

Gerard’s smile is wry but he nods, slowly exhaling smoke. “That shit is difficult.”  
“Yeah,” Frank barely stops himself from shrugging, “But he’s got us.”

~

Mikey closes his eyes and exhales slowly, trying to keep from tapping his foot against the pavement. It’s freezing, he’s fidgety, he really, really, reallyreallyreally wants a hit, just a tiny one, and he’s got ‘Merry Christmas Everyone’ stuck in his head. Fucking Christmas time and stores blasting stupid, happy songs that force their way into one’s brain and refuse to _leave_.

Two more days until Christmas and business is slow. Gerard’s driven off with a john a few minutes ago, but so far Mikey’s only had two back alley blowjobs.

Mikey sniffs and rubs his nose. The skin around it is sore and Mikey feels the skin under it, relieved when his fingers don’t come away bloody. A nosebleed is the last thing he needs right now.

Hardly any cars drive by and Mikey amuses himself for a while by looking at the Christmas decorations, letting his vision go unfocused until they’re shiny blobs of color.

“Mikey?”

Mikey blinks until the world shifts back into focus and turns, smiling when he sees who’s approaching.

“Hi Ryan.”

Ryan’s lips twitch into the barest of smiles. “How are you?”

His voice is low, like always, and Mikey has to strain to hear him. Ryan speaks and behaves in a way that attracts trouble. On more than one occasion Gerard and Mikey had to help him into one of the back alleys and sit with him for the day, trying to judge if he needed the free clinic or not. Ryan’s a shy and private person, but Mikey likes to think they’re friends.

“All right,” Mikey shrugs, tugging on the sleeves of his coat. He can’t feel the tips of his fingers anymore. “It’s the holidays.” Ryan’ll understand what Mikey means. “How’re you?”

Ryan is wearing a scarf and a newsboy cap, large parts of his face hidden in the shadows. He seems to be mostly fine, physically.

“I’m okay,” Ryan nods and takes a cautious step closer. “It’s almost Christmas.”

Mikey nods and scratches the bridge of his nose.

“So. It’s not, like, anything great or stuff, but, Gee and you, you’re. . . you’re my friends, so,”  
Ryan stops and takes a deep breath, like he’s trying to compose himself, and pulls something out of the pocket of his ratty coat, holding it out for Mikey. “Merry Christmas.”

For a moment Mikey doesn’t move before he reaches out and takes the mittens Ryan’s holding. One pair is black and the other one grey.

“I thought. . . I thought maybe you could use them.” Ryan sounds insecure and Mikey desperately wishes that Gerard was here to handle this properly, hug Ryan as tightly as possible.

“Did you make them?” Mikey asks, rubbing his thumb over the soft wool.

“Yeah,” Ryan shrugs and looks down, seemingly more embarrassed by the second. “Can’t sleep a lot of the time, so I kinda took knitting up as a hobby,” he laughs softly, like he’s expecting Mikey to make fun of him.

“That’s amazing.” Mikey’s fingers close tighter around the mittens and he shuffles forward a little. Ryan and him aren’t the most touchy of people, so Mikey only reaches out to link his fingers with Ryan’s and squeeze. “They’re fantastic. Thank you.” He tries to put it into his voice how much this actually means, but as always it comes out sounding wrong.

“We. . . I got nothing for you.”

Ryan shakes his head and links their fingers tighter. “You. . . helped me. A lot of times. And. . . it’s good to have. Have someone.”

Mikey nods jerkily. As shitty as their situation is, Mikey’s always going to have Gerard. Ryan has no one, doesn’t trust people. It took them over six months to stop Ryan from running away from them.

Looking down at the mittens an idea crosses Mikey’s mind.

“This is kinda short notice, but could you maybe. . . knit something else for me? I’ll invite you for dinner in exchange.”

Ryan nods before Mikey’s even finished speaking.

~

Frank is playing a game with Zero that involves rolling a plastic bottle around when Gerard and Mikey come back from work, looking worn out and tired. The bottle rolls across the pavement and hits the brick wall on the other side of the alley as Zero forgets all about playing in his haste to welcome the brothers back.

“Hey,” Frank says, noticing the shadows under Mikey’s eyes that look like bruises and the way Gerard drags his feet, like he doesn’t even have the energy to lift them anymore. Gerard grunts a reply and flops down on the ground next to Frank, leaning heavily against his side. Mikey picks up Zero and holds him close before joining them.

“Long night,” Gerard mutters and Frank drapes part of the blanket over him.

“Sucks,” Frank offers, running a hand through Gerard’s hair. There’s not really a way for him to provide comfort.

Mikey’s petting Zero, pressed to Frank’s other side. Frank smiles at them before doing a double take.

“Did you buy mittens?” He asks, looking at the grey ones Mikey’s wearing.

“No. Ryan made them for us,” Mikey says and rubs his nose. The mittens hide it, but Frank knows that Mikey’s fingers are trembling.

“Ryan. . . what?” Frank looks at Gerard because he’s usually better at explaining things than Mikey. Gerard wiggles his fingers and Frank sees that he’s wearing a pair of black mittens.

“Ryan made them for us. He’s a friend.”

“Oh.” Frank swallows because suddenly his mouth is stupidly dry. Of course Gerard and Mikey have other friends. That’s nothing special. Nothing that should make him feel like he can’t breathe.

“We could go to the soup kitchen later,” Frank suggests, trying to change the topic and ban all thoughts of Ryan and awesome, self-made presents he can never compete with.

“Sure,” Gerard replies at the same time as Mikey says, “Can’t.”

“What? Why?” Frank asks.

“I’m meeting Ryan,” Mikey shrugs and Frank wants to bash his head against a wall. Fuck everything, now he’s grumpy and annoyed and wants nothing more than go to sleep and not think.

“Gee,” Mikey whines and leans forward so he can look at his brother. Frank knows that look and it doesn’t improve his mood. With a huff Frank leans back and pulls his legs up closer to his chest, trying to get comfortable. Gerard’s arm keeps bumping against Frank’s side and he jostles Frank when he leans over and hands Mikey a joint.

Frank tries very hard to pretend it’s a cigarette and closes his eyes.

~

Frank isn’t happy about Mikey going off to meet Ryan. He wants to ask Gerard a million questions but stubbornly refuses to open his mouth. After all he’s got no right to be jealous. Mikey can hang out with whoever he wants. Frank always knew the Ways would eventually move on.

“Why’re you sulking?” Gerard asks, shooting Frank a sideways look.

“What? I’m not sulking.” Frank’s hand tightens around Zero’s leash and he looks down at the ground, almost running over an old lady.

“Uh-huh.” Gerard doesn’t sound like he believes it, but thankfully he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t press matters further.

They walk the rest of the way to the soup kitchen in silence, Gerard smoking a cigarette and trying to draw it out as long as possible. There’s only half a pack left and no money to buy a new one anytime soon. Frank keeps a tight hold on Zero’s leash and makes half-hearted attempts to keep him from marking every lamppost and bus bench they pass.

“We should take some food for Mikey,” Frank says, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” Gerard nods, then sighs. “He’s never eaten much, but it’s worse now.” His bottom lip catches between his teeth and Frank reaches over with his free hand to tentatively link his fingers through Gerard’s.

“He’ll be okay.” Frank swallows against the lump in his throat. “It’s just his body adjusting.”

“I know,” Gerard replies, sounding frustrated and holding onto Frank’s hand a little tighter.

“Just. I keep. . . I keep thinking. If only cutting back a little has him in such a state,” Gerard trails off, but Frank knows what he means. What is full on withdrawal going to do to Mikey? It’s not something they’ve talked about before.

“Maybe if we slowly cut back his doses?” Frank asks, feeling like he’s walking on very thin ice. He’s not sure if there is a ‘we’.

Gerard shakes his head. “That won’t do. He has to decide himself when he wants to stop. If we make the decision for him he’s just gonna go off and buy whatever he can afford.”

“Shit,” Frank sighs, knowing Gerard’s right. “Guess we can only try and talk sense into him.”

Gerard shrugs in a way that Frank’s not sure how to interpret. Before he’s got a chance to ask they reach the soup kitchen and Gerard lets go off Frank’s hand and pushes the door open.

Inside it’s warm and noise, dishes clattering and people chatting. After a while out in the streets on your own you become desperate for human contact. The soup kitchen is like a social gathering for the poor.

Frank scans the tables, but there are enough free seats that he doesn’t bother asking Gerard to reserve them a spot. Gerard looks uncomfortable enough as it is, shoulders pulled up high and looking at the floor.

“Frank!”

Hearing his name Frank turns around and only gets a second to wonder why Zero is straining against the leash. Ray’s making his way over to them, grinning widely. With his wild hair barely contained in a ponytail, wearing a washed out Iron Maiden shirt and jeans he looks the same as always. Frank’s not sure why, but for some reason he expected Ray to be different.

So many things have happened to Frank in the past few weeks that it seems unthinkable that everything is still the same at the soup kitchen.

“Hey,” Frank smiles and loosens his hold on Zero’s leash a little, allowing him to jump up Ray’s legs by means of greeting.

“Hey Zero,” Ray pats Zero’s head and laughs when the dog licks his hand. “It’s good to see you again. I was starting to get worried.” Ray glances up at Frank.

“Oh. I’m. . . sorry?” Frank’s at a loss because he didn’t expect anyone to even notice his absence. “I got sick.”

Ray wrinkles his nose and straightens up when Zero finally gets back down on all fours and trots over to Gerard. “Aw shit man. Is that why this other guy came by the other day with Zero?”

It takes Frank a little to puzzle the pieces together. He only vaguely remembers Mikey coaxing to eat when he was sick, something hot and delicious. “Mikey was here?”

“Mikey, yeah. That was his name.” Ray looks less then pleased and his eyes stray to Gerard. “Another one of your friends?”

Frank nods. “That’s Gerard. He’s Mikey’s brother.”

Gerard raises his hand and waves awkwardly.

“Hi,” Ray says and it sounds so clipped and unfriendly that Frank does a double take. Since he’s known him Ray has never been anything but friendly.

“Hey Gee, you wanna go get some food? I’ll see about some water for Zero.” Frank raises an eyebrow at Gerard, who looks confused at first but nods when Frank keeps staring at him meaningfully. As soon as Gerard’s out of ear-reach Frank turns and takes a step closer to Ray, voice coming out strained as he tries to hold back on his anger, “What the fuck, Ray?”

Ray purses his lips and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “These people are no good, Frank. You shouldn’t hang out with them.”

“What the fuck?” Frank repeats, hands clenching into fists at his side and trying to order the replies flitting through his mind by importance. “You don’t even _know_ them.”

Ray shrugs uncomfortably. “There’s not that much to know, is there?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck and looking at Frank. “I just don’t want you to get yourself involved in anything.”

“Oh my God,” Frank groans and closes his eyes for a few seconds, trying to work through the blinding rage mixed with stunned disbelief. “Are you trying to give me a ‘Drugs are bad’ speech?”

“I. . . no! Well, kinda,” Ray shrugs again. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

It’s an admission that quenches some of Frank’s anger. Ray is trying to look out for him, which is in itself a nice thing to do. Only he doesn’t know that he’s attacking the wrong people.

“Look, you don’t have to be worried, okay? They are good guys. They looked after me when I was sick.” Frank bites his tongue before he adds a nasty comment about how they are not afraid to offer him a place to sleep when Ray clearly doesn’t want him anywhere near his private life.

“Right. If you say so,” Ray replies, though he still doesn’t sound convinced. “I’ll go see if there’s cake left.”

“Cool.” Frank forces his fists to unclench. “Can you maybe pack some food for Mikey?”

Ray nods and Frank watches him disappear into the kitchen, releasing a long breath.

“Hey, you okay?” Gerard asks, balancing two trays in his arms. Frank swiftly takes one of them.

“Sure, everything’s cool,” Frank forces himself to smile.

Gerard nods and looks down at the trays. “They didn’t have much left, so I took some for you as well. Hope it’s what you wanted.”

It’s not like Frank is picky, but Gerard knows about his food preferences. One afternoon when Mikey was really high he’d giggled and told them that he really missed Fruit Loops, which had been followed by two hours of talk about all the food they really missed.

“Perfect, I love lasagna,” Frank smiles and nods towards a free table. Better eat while the food is still warm.

Both of them wolf down the first few bites before slowing down, making an effort to eat slowly and enjoy the food, making it last as long as possible.

Frank is licking his fork clean of tomato sauce when Ray comes over and puts a plastic bag down on the table. “I managed to get some pieces of lasagna and bread. But there was no cake left.” The way Ray says it he makes it sound like no cake is the end of the world.

“Dude, that’s awesome. Thank you.” This time when Frank smiles at Ray it’s genuine. That’s more than he expected. Now they only need to get Mikey to eat.

“Sure,” Ray says, briefly glancing at Gerard. “So, hey. You know there’s a kind of Christmas dinner thing here tomorrow? You should come.”

Frank doesn’t like shitty charity events, but he’s not one to turn down free food, even if it means having to endure cheerful Christmas spirit bullshit.

“I guess,” Frank replies slowly, placing his fork carefully on his empty plate before looking up at Ray again. “I can bring Mikey and Gerard, right?”

The corners of Ray’s lips twitch but he manages to hold onto a smile. “Of course.”

~

Mikey pours another packet of sugar into his coffee, watching the white grains fall with rapt attention. Tapping his middle finger against the flimsy paper bag he sends a few more grains into his coffee. A few miss their target and Mikey licks the tip of his finger and picks them up from the table top. Nothing happens when he rubs his finger over his gums, except his mouth filling with a sweet taste.

“Hey.” Ryan flops down in the seat across from Mikey. He’s wearing an array of scarves, pulled up high and almost hiding his face. The thin material doesn’t seem like it’ll ward off the cold.

“Coffee?” Mikey asks, already waving the waitress over.

“Tea,” Ryan mumbles, not even glancing at the waitress as he gives his order. Once she leaves Mikey and Ryan sit in silence for a moment.

“Are you hungry?” Mikey asks, because even though the smell of grease and bacon wafting through the air is making him nauseous he did promise Ryan a meal.

“No,” Ryan shakes his head, twisting his fingers together and pulling his shoulders up, eyes nervously scanning their surroundings. He hates being surrounded by people even more than Mikey.

The waitress puts a cup down in front of Ryan and he waits until she turns around before wrapping his hands around it. The tips of his fingers are bright red from the cold. He could do with a pair of gloves that weren’t holey and fingerless. Mikey takes a slow sip of his coffee and breathes through the tight feeling in his chest.

“You didn’t say which colors you want,” Ryan breaks the silence and reaches into his backpack, pulling out what looks like a bundle of wool. After carefully checking the table for stains he spreads it out and the bundle turns into a tiny sweater. “I thought red and blue would be nice any time of the year.”

Mikey reaches out and carefully traces a finger over the sweater. The wool’s thick and soft.  
“It’s perfect,” Mikey says and although his smile is not wide it’s honest. Mikey knows Ryan’ll get it. They’re similar in a lot of ways.

“Yeah?” There’s still a trace of doubt in Ryan’s voice but his eyes have lit up.

“Yeah,” Mikey nods. If Gerard were here he’d hug Ryan, but Mikey settles for bumping his leg against Ryan’s under the table. “Honestly, it’s perfect Ryan. Thank you.”

A hint of color blooms on Ryan’s cheeks and Mikey makes a silent vow to meet Ryan more often. Gerard and he help whenever they can, but at the end of the night it’s not all about help. Sometimes all you need is company.

“I. . . I got you something as well. For Christmas, kinda.” Mikey’s not good at giving presents. He fumbles awkwardly to get the bag he stowed under the table out and holds it out to Ryan.

As soon as Mikey sees Ryan’s face he regrets it. The corners of Ryan’s lips are twitching and he looks like he’s ready to bolt. Maybe a present wasn’t a good idea. Maybe Ryan doesn’t like presents.

Mikey’s palms are getting sweaty and he wishes the stupid bag would disappear because now that he’s awkwardly holding it between them he can’t just put it away again.

“For me?” Ryan asks, his voice is a little wobbly and breaking away from his usual monotone.

Mikey nods and when Ryan takes the bag from him he releases the breath he’s been holding.

“It’s not a great Christmas gift or anything,” Mikey mumbles, tracing his index finger over a chip in his mug, “Just something I thought you could use and. . . yeah.” This is why Mikey usually leaves the talking to Gerard. Still, Ryan looks completely enchanted. It makes Mikey wish that he could’ve put aside more money and bought Ryan a proper present.

Ryan runs his hands over the plastic bag before he carefully looks inside. “Oh.” His eyes light up.

“It looked really warm,” Mikey says, like he needs to explain to Ryan why he bought him a blanket. Mikey’s seen the ratty little thing Ryan carries around in his backpack. He also knows that Ryan sleeps on a mattress in an abandoned warehouse, where it is always damp and drafty. There is nothing Mikey can do about that, but when he’d seen the blanket in a store, ran his fingers over the thick, soft material he’d thought that it might help to make Ryan at least a little comfortable.

“It’s awesome,” Ryan whispers, clutching the bag to his chest. “Thank you.”

His voice is full of raw emotion and Mikey doesn’t know what to do with that. It’s obvious that it’s been a long time since Ryan got a present from anyone. It makes Mikey aware how lucky he is. Gerard gets him little things all the time.

“Merry Christmas, Ryan,” Mikey replies eventually, pressing his leg against Ryan’s under the table. Ryan presses back and smiles.

~

If Frank had a watch he’d repeatedly glance at it and tap his foot impatiently. As it is he has no idea how much time has passed since they’ve come back to their alley and curled up with the blanket, waiting for Mikey to return. Gerard is half-asleep, head on Frank’s shoulder, apparently without a care in the world.

“He’s been gone for a while now,” Frank mutters and picks dog hair off the blanket.

“Hm?” Gerard blinks and barely lifts his head. “He’ll be here soon. Don’t worry.”

Frank huffs. Zero sighs deeply and puts his head down on his paws. Frank’s dog is the only one who understands him.

It seems like an eternity until Frank hears someone approaching. He holds his breath and presses back against the wall out of instinct.

“Hey,” Mikey mumbles as he rounds the dumpster, looking the same as when he left. Frank doesn’t know what he was expecting. Mikey sits down in front of them and scoops Zero up. He laughs when Zero stretches to lick his chin.

“Had a good time?” Gerard asks, finally lifting his head from Frank’s shoulder. He’s smiling as well. Why is everybody smiling when Frank feels like fucking things up?

“Yeah. Ryan says hi and Merry Christmas.” Mikey replies, petting Zero once the dog has settled in his lap.

“That all Ryan said? Considering you were gone for so long and all,” Frank mutters, pulling his shoulders up and picking at the blanket. Neither Mikey nor Gerard reply and the air between them is suddenly thick with tension.

“Why’d you go and meet him anyway?” Frank prods further because he never knows when to stop. When he looks up he finds Mikey looking at him with a blank expression. Frank hates it when Mikey closes off like that.

“Because he’s my friend and because it’s Christmas,” Mikey replies slowly, looking right at Frank. Great, now Frank feels like an asshole.

“I was just worried,” he mumbles and pulls his knees closer to his chest. Gerard presses a little closer to Frank’s side.

“You can stop worrying now,” Mikey points out nonchalantly.

“I guess,” Frank shrugs. Truth is, he’ll never stop worrying about Mikey.

“Gee,” Mikey mumbles and pokes Gerard’s leg through the blanket.

Gerard hesitates for a moment, looking like he wants to say something. In the end he keeps his mouth shut and reaches into his boot with a sigh. “We brought you some food.”

“I’m not hungry,” Mikey replies, looking like he’s trying to disappear into his coat.

“Need me to come with you?” Gerard asks as he presses a small plastic bag into Mikey’s hand.

Mikey pushes his hand into the pocket of his coat and coaxes Zero to stand up before he pushes to his feet himself.

“No,” he shakes his head. “’s just around the corner.” Mikey raises his free hand in a distracted wave, already on his way to the public bathroom.

Frank lifts Zero into his lap and cuddles the dog, needing something to hold onto. Now he’s even more miserable than before.

“Frank-“

“Look, I’m sorry,” Frank interrupts Gerard before he can break into a rant. “I was just worried.”

“Hey, I know. I get it.” Gerard squeezes Frank’s knee reassuringly. “I get it,” he repeats and Frank has no doubt that he does.

“You love him, don’t you?” Gerard asks after a moment and Frank nearly chokes on his own saliva.

“I. . . what?” He splutters, starring at Gerard with wide-eyes, waiting for him to start laughing. Because this is a joke, it has to be. Mikey is Gerard’s and Gerard is Mikey’s. Frank isn’t going to get between them. Gerard is going to tell him to fuck off now, Frank’s sure.

“I’ve seen the way you look at him, you know?” Gerard says. He’s smiling. Frank doesn’t know what to do with that.

“From the first time he brought you along. You always looked at him like he’s special.”

“He _is_ special,” Frank interrupts before he can stop himself.

“See, that’s what I mean!” Gerard nearly pushes the blanket off them when he waves his arms like he’s actually excited. “You know that. And you treat him like he is.”

“Well, duh,” Frank huffs, trying to untangle a knot in Zero’s fur. “He’s my friend. I treat all my friends like that.” Not that Frank’s got any friends left to prove it.

“Frank.” Gerard’s using the same tone Frank’s mother used to use when she thought he was being dense.

“But he’s _yours_.” Why doesn’t Gerard get it? There’s no need to rub it in Frank’s face. Besides, the very last thing Frank wants to hear right now is a speech about staying the fuck away from Mikey.

“Yeah he is,” Gerard nods. He still sounds unnervingly calm. “But he’s yours too. Frank, hey.” Gerard turns so he’s facing Frank, his hand settling gently on Frank’s arm. “Mikey deserves all the love he can get.”

It’s so stupidly selfless, so typically Gerard that it makes anger boil hot in Frank’s veins. He’s never acted rational when angry.

“You do too, idiot,” Frank hisses before he leans in and crashes his lips against Gerard’s. It’s not a romantic first kiss, no flowers and rainbows and angels singing in the background. It’s not meant to be, with Frank still so angry and confused.

“You deserve all the love too,” Frank repeats as he pulls back.

Gerard looks shocked but not like he wants to punch Frank, which Frank counts as a good sign.

“Oh,” Gerard smiles and he looks open and vulnerable in a way Frank’s never seen before, shy instead of sassy. “Well. I guess you don’t really have to decide. I mean,” Gerard shrugs and rubs the back of his neck.

“You guys were always gonna be a package deal anyway,” Frank concludes with a small smile of his own. Fine, so maybe he’s greedy. Or maybe this is too good to be true. Or maybe it’s a long overdue Christmas miracle.

Gerard’s reply is cut off when Mikey comes back and slides down the wall next to his brother, looking calmer than before.

“Hey Mikes,” Gerard mumbles, shooting Frank an apologetic glance and mouthing ‘talk later’ before he turns to Mikey and tucks the blanket around him. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Mikey replies and sniffs, leaning against Gerard.

“Try and eat a little bit now?” Gerard tries again. Mikey sighs and picks at the blanket, not answering or even looking at Gerard.

“Mikey,” Gerard’s voice is a little firmer than before and brings Mikey back to reality.

“What? Oh. Uh. I guess. Okay,” Mikey shrugs, obviously not thrilled at the idea of food but willing to indulge Gerard now that he’s had his fix.

They sit in silence as Mikey eats and keeps slipping Zero bits of food.

“So, hey, Ray totally invited us to this Christmas thing at the soup kitchen tomorrow,” Gerard lies, nudging his elbow against Mikey’s side. “That’s gonna be good, yeah? We can get some food and listen to stupid Christmas songs before we check into the motel.”

“Hm. Cool.” Mikey pushes the rest of his food around in the takeaway container with his fork . “Can Ryan come too? He’s got no place to stay at tomorrow.”

Frank’s pretty sure that this is going to lead to Ryan coming along to the motel with them. He keeps his head down and picks at the knee of his jeans where a hole is forming.

“Course. Everybody can come. Right, Frank?”

Frank ‘accidentally’ kicks Gerard. “Sure,” he replies sweetly, flashing Gerard and Mikey a smile before curling back into himself, mumbling about getting a few hours of sleep while they’re still here.

In the end Frank is too worked up to sleep. He sits with his eyes closed and leans against Gerard’s side, keeping his breathing even as he listens to Gerard and Mikey whisper to each other about comic books, things they’ve seen in shop windows, what they should get as a special Christmas breakfast.

“Mikey, c’mon. Blueberry muffins suck. Triple chocolate or nothing. Live a little!”

“No. Blueberry,” Mikey replies, calm as ever. Despite Gerard’s protests there is no doubt that he’ll buy blueberry muffins for Mikey. Fuck, Frank is ridiculously in love with these ridiculous people and it makes breathing ridiculously hard.

“Hey Frank, you okay?” Gerard sounds genuinely concerned. Frank opens his eyes and smiles at him, feeling all warm inside. The entire world is completely ridiculous today.

“Yeah. I’m good,” he mumbles, scooting closer and pressing against Gerard’s side.

“Okay then,” Gerard doesn’t sound fully convinced. “We’re getting triple chocolate muffins for breakfast tomorrow before going to the motel.”

“And blueberry,” Mikey throws in with a dark look, poking Gerard’s side.

“Fine. And blueberry,” Gerard rolls his eyes. “Frank, tell him triple chocolate are better. You’re on my side, right?”

Frank looks between Gerard and Mikey, and there is that ridiculous feeling in his chest again.

“I like both,” he replies with a grin.

~

Gerard and Mikey spend a big part of the remaining evening arguing food choices with Frank throwing in a comment every now and then. For the most part he’s captivated audience because the Way brothers arguing peanut M&M’s versus peanut butter M&M’s is hilarious.

The later it gets the more the conversation lulls until Gerard finally detangles himself from the blanket with a sigh. “We should get going.”

“Hm.” Mikey huffs and gets to his feet with a sigh, pulling his shoulders up against the cold.

Getting out from under the blanket is always the worst. Frank makes sure that Zero is still comfortable in his blanket nest and won’t get cold before he gets to his feet as well, putting his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and standing awkwardly.

“Right. Uh. I’ll see you in a few then,” Frank mumbles.

“Yep. We’ll come back here to pick you up,” Gerard says.

“Okay. Cool.” Frank swallows against the tightness in his throat. What the hell is wrong with him? He used to be smooth and sure of himself. Back in another life when he was more than a street urchin.

Frank exhales sharply through his nose and takes a step forward just as Gerard and Mikey turn to leave.

“Hey.” They both stop and look back at Frank, who shifts under the attention before telling himself to grow a pair. Taking another step forward Frank pushes up on his tiptoes and presses a light kiss to Gerard’s lips, feeling them twitch into a smile under his own. That’s reassuring, but the way Mikey looks at them with a blank face isn’t. Damn, Frank should’ve done this the other way round.

“Take care,” Frank says and his voice cracks a little as he steps closer to Mikey and fists his hands in the front of Mikey’s coat, pulling him in for a kiss as well. Mikey’s lips don’t move.  
They’re cold and chapped under Frank’s. Frank wants nothing more than to kiss the cold away.

The way Mikey doesn’t respond at all makes Frank’s heart sink. When he pulls back he’s almost afraid to see what he’s going to find in Mikey’s eyes. There’s nothing but curiosity and a bit of hesitation though. Mikey looks at him for a moment before his eyes flicker over to Gerard. Frank can’t see what it is Gerard does, but it seems to reassure Mikey. The line of mouth softens and he leans his forehead against Frank’s, not quite kissing him. “Always. You take care too.”

Frank grins and rubs the tip of his nose against Mikey’s. “Always.”

~

They don’t talk about Frank.

Not with a lot of words anyway. Gerard reaches over and takes Mikey’s hand, squeezing lightly. There are years of sibling speech between them making it a no-brainer for Mikey to translate.

He squeezes back.

“I knew you liked him from the beginning,” Gerard says, looking straight ahead. Gerard’s always known things about Mikey before Mikey’s known them himself. 

“I like him too,” Gerard adds, glancing over at his brother. Something in Mikey unwinds and he holds onto Gerard hand so tight it hurts.  
“Yeah?”

Gerard smiles and ducks his head. “Yeah. Kind of a lot.”

Frank has wormed his way into their lives and now there is no way Mikey could imagine a life without him.

“Then it’s all good?” Mikey asks, because he needs to be sure. His thoughts are so jumbled, he needs Gerard to spell it out for him.

“Yes. It’s all good.”

Mikey nods. There is no question of how they are going to make this work. Because it already works. It’s them, now without inhibitions.

“Seems like Santa sent us an early present,” Gerard grins, startling a laugh from Mikey.

“He’s gotta make up for the shitty Christmas last year.” At Mikey’s words Gerard’s smile falters and he squeezes Mikey’s hand again.

“Hey,” Mikey bumps his shoulder against Gerard’s. “Totally made up for it.”

“Totally,” Gerard agrees, bumping Mikey back.

“I’ll see if Ryan’s around already. Tell him to come to the soup kitchen tomorrow. Meet you at the corner?” Mikey asks, his steps slowing down.

“Yeah. Tell Ryan I count on seeing him tomorrow,” Gerard says, getting a battered pack of cigarettes out of the inner pocket of his leather jacket.

“’kay,” Mikey nods and lets go off Gerard’s hand, smiling at him before he turns around and walks to Ryan’s usual corner. Looks like Christmas this year is going to be good.

~

Ryan is leaning against a wall, hunched into himself and starring down at the pavement.

“Hey,” Mikey says and leans against the wall next to Ryan, watching the cars pass by.

Ryan snaps his head up, eyes wide with surprise. “Hey,” he echoes. Glancing over Mikey notices Ryan’s hands trembling even though they are balled into fists. It’s not difficult to guess what’s up; Mikey’s been in the same position.

“There is some kind of Christmas thing at the soup kitchen tomorrow. You should go there with us,” Mikey says, kicking a pebble out of the way and letting his eyes go unfocused until the world in front of him is nothing but shadows and passing bulbs of light.

“I don’t know,” Ryan replies and sniffles. Mikey resists the urge to rub his own nose.

“There’ll be food and it’s really warm there.” Mikey isn’t going to talk Ryan into coming the way Gerard would. If Ryan doesn’t want to come he doesn’t want to come, it’s his decision. But Mikey can point out the advantages. “And you’d get to meet Frank and Zero.”

Ryan’s quite for a while, scratching his wrist and coughing softly. “I guess,” he replies eventually.

Mikey blinks until the world comes back into focus and smiles at Ryan. “Cool. You know how to get there?”

Ryan furrows his brows before he nods, tongue darting out to lick over his chapped lips. He’s in a bad state and Mikey is about to take him back to Gerard, share some of the cocaine that’s for later tonight. It’s a fucked up Christmas present, but it’s going to help Ryan the most.

Mikey’s barely opened his mouth when he’s cut off by a car pulling up on the curb. Mikey and Ryan watch as the window on the passenger side rolls down. It’s Ryan’s corner, so it’s going to be his job. Mikey can’t bring himself to walk away. Ryan is obviously in bad shape and that’s like sticking a bloody leg into the ocean – it attracts clients like sharks.

“You two, how much?” The guy in the driver’s seat bellows, leaning over and looking them up and down.

Ryan’s mouth works but no sound comes out. Mikey looks from him to the car and back, making a decision within seconds. Taking Ryan’s hand he walks closer to the car.

“400 for an hour.” Mikey’s reply makes the man scoff. Mikey raises his chin higher and squeezes Ryan’s hand. They’ve never taken a job together, but they both need the money and this way Mikey can watch out for Ryan.

“Aiming a little high, arent’cha?” The man grins. He’s the kind of sleazy that makes Mikey’s skin crawl.

Mikey shrugs and squeezed Ryan’s hand sharply when it seems like he’s about to crumble and ask for less.

“Holiday season, holiday prices,” Mikey points and takes a step back. His palms are sweaty.

Ryan needs this job even more than Mikey does, but chances of the john pulling away are high. The man looks annoyed and taps his fingers against the steering wheel, never taking his eyes off of them. Mikey tries his best to appear self-assured, making up for Ryan’s trembling.

“Fine,” the john finally agrees and juts his chin towards the backseat. “Get in.”

**(START SKIP)**

Mikey slides into the seat next to Ryan. Gerard will know that he’s picked up a job on the way, so that’s one less thing to worry about, even though Mikey would’ve preferred to let his brother know.

Ryan is tense next to him and Mikey takes forcefully even breathes. He’s got to be the calm one this time.

No one says a word during the drive. It’s a heavy silence Mikey’s become used to; it doesn’t bother him anymore and he looks out of the window. It’s never a bad thing to know where you’re going. 

The motel the john takes them to is one of the more upscale places, which is only going to make things marginally better. In the end it doesn’t matter if you’re in a shitty room or a fancy suite, you’ll always walk away feeling the same.

“Take the bag,” the man instructs, glancing back at them in the rear view mirror before he gets out of the car. Ryan releases a shaky breath once the door slams shut. Then he pulls his shoulders back and grabs the handles of the weekender bag on the floor and exits the car as well. It takes Mikey a moment to follow, taken aback but relieved by Ryan apparently finding the strength to put on the mask he needs for this job.

“You wait here,” the man orders as soon as they are inside, walking up to the desk alone. Mikey and Ryan hang back without a word, both used to following orders. For a moment Mikey imagines Frank in the same situation, lips forming a smile at the thought of Frank’s attitude getting the better of him.

“Watcha think?” Ryan asks, looking past Mikey at the john handing over cash for the room. “What kind is he?”

Mikey tilts his head to the side and musters the guy. Polished leather shoes, beige pants, a beer belly emphasized even more by the salmon colored shirt he’s wearing. His brown leather jacket looks old and well-worn. Dark hair slicked back, and something about the way he regards the world around him that makes it clear that he thinks he’s superior. And he’s willing to pay 400 bucks for an hour. There is no way he won’t have special requests.

“Bondage, probably,” Mikey shrugs. “Voyeurism maybe. Definitely something where he gets to order us around.” He seems like the kind of guy who gets off on having power over others.

“My guess too,” Ryan nods. Mikey doesn’t point out that Ryan must have a lot of experience with clients like that. He’s the perfect prey for their games.

“Boys,” the man calls from the front desk and nods towards the elevator. There’s something about the way he says ‘boys’ that makes the hairs on Mikey’s neck stand up.

The elevator ride is quiet, another kind of situation that would make a normal person uncomfortable. Mikey’s used to it. He’s spent time in elevators with fiddling first timers, impatient assholes, hateful drunks in need of a punching bag. The silence is another part of the routine, the same as following the john to the room, never speaking unless you’re being addressed.

Stepping into the room Mikey quickly scopes out the interior. As far as motel rooms go it’s nice and clean.

“There’s clothes in the bag. Change into them.” The man orders, kicking the door shut behind himself and locking it. “Make yourself pretty for me.”

Ryan has already taken a step towards the bathroom when Mikey grabs his wrists, looking evenly at the john, quirking his eyebrow. When the man doesn’t react Mikey sighs and tries to stand up taller. He hates this part.

“Money first.”

“Ah, right. Of course,” the man smiles pleasantly, like they’re all friends, and pulls a wad of notes from his pocket, counting out 400 and handing them to Mikey. Mikey makes sure the man counted right before he nods and folds the bills, giving Ryan a gentle nudge in the direction of the bathroom.

Closing the door behind them Mikey leans back against it, exhaling slowly. This is going to be the only moment of privacy they’ll get tonight. “Let’s see the damage,” Mikey mumbles, watching Ryan unzip the bag through heavily-lidded eyes. He’s so tired of this. Movement seems like too much effort, making playing a role look like an impossible mission. If Gerard were here he could do this, take most of pressure off of Mikey. But Gerard isn’t here and Mikey is the one who has to hold things together.

“Shit,” Ryan gasps, looking into the bag. Mikey pushes away from the door and peers over his shoulder, barely suppressing a groan. Grabbing the garment on top Mikey pulls it out, inspecting the sundress. It’s rose colored with flowers all over it. It’s innocent rather than sexy. Mikey tosses the dress over the towel rail and pulls the rest of the clothes from the bag. There’s a pair of brown knickerbockers and a green shirt with Donald Duck on it. Shit indeed. Looks like they won the fucked-up jackpot.

“Shit,” Ryan repeats and sits down on the edge of the tub, starring at the clothes like they are going to take a flying leap and strangle him. His hands are trembling worse than before.

They’ve never really talked about their pasts. Why would they anyway, it’s not like who they used to be matters anymore. But Mikey vaguely remembers that Ryan didn’t end up in the streets because of an addiction problem like Gerard and him, but because of family issues.

“Shit,” Mikey agrees softly. He’s all too aware of time ticking away, the john getting impatient outside. “We’ll manage, okay? Here, that’ll help.”

Mikey crouches down in front of Ryan and unzips his left boot, reaching inside and producing a bag that holds a small amount of white powder. It’s not much left, but it’ll be good for an initial rush.

Opening it carefully Mikey sucks on his index finger before collecting the grains with it. He _wants_ but the way Ryan’s starting to tremble all over makes him reach out, pushing his finger into Ryan’s mouth without much ado and rubbing it over Ryan’s gums. “It’ll be okay,” Mikey mumbles again and gives Ryan the very last cocaine from the bag. Mikey can deal for another hour or two and then he’ll go and buy some more from the money they are making with this job.

The job that impatiently pounds on the bathroom door. “Get a move on, will ya? We don’t have all night.” The way his voice is dripping sleazy sweetness makes Mikey want to vomit.

Ryan is still looking around wide-eyed, but at least a little more composed, absently minded running his tongue over his teeth repeatedly.

“Put that on.” Mikey hands Ryan the trousers and shirt, taking the dress himself. Ryan seems okay for now, but Mikey’s got a feeling that it’ll only take the smallest of things to push him back over the edge.

Mikey undresses as quickly as possible, folding his clothes carefully and putting them on the towel rack. Maybe he’ll get the chance to wash them at the motel tomorrow, but either way he doesn’t want them on the dirty bathroom floor.

The flimsy material of the sundress provides no protection against the cold and Mikey shivers in the cold room. While Ryan is still struggling into his clothes Mikey looks at himself in the bathroom mirror. The white light makes him look washed out. Or maybe he really looks like that by now, he wouldn’t know. Mikey only ever sees himself in mirrors in motels or public restrooms where the light is bad.

Reaching up Mikey pokes at his cheekbones. He almost expects them to feel sharp under his fingertips. Rubbing away the smudges of eyeliner under his eyes Mikey briefly thinks that the dress is not flattering him at all. His shoulders look too wide, his chest too flat and pale. He hasn’t washed his hair in days and his skin looks blotchy. He doesn’t have any make-up to give his lips some color or his eyes a less sunken-in look.

Mikey’s not pretty. The john will have to deal with that.

“I’m done,” Ryan says, breaking the silence of the room. Mikey nods and turns, walking to the door without looking at Ryan, who’s always beautiful, no matter how fucked up he is.

“There you are.” The man looks them over before he nods approvingly, his smile brightening.

“Daddy brought you some Christmas presents. Isn’t that great?”

Mikey’s fingertips feel numb and there is bile rising in his throat. He barely manages to nod.

“Now, that’s no proper way to say thank you, is it? C’mere and thank your daddy properly.”

 **(END SKIP)**  
~

When the client drops them off Mikey and Ryan stumble out of the car and stand in the street as the car pulls away without exchanging a word. Sometimes you need a moment to yourself to come down from a job.

“I know a dealer,” Ryan says, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, body tense.

“Ace,” Mikey replies and follows Ryan, knowing that Gerard is going to be mad and not giving a fuck about it. Not when his body feels like it is shaking apart and his mind is screaming, desperate to escape memories.

~

“So motherfucking stupid. We _talked_ about this, Mikey.”

Before Frank even sees them he can hear Gerard spitting out words like they’re poison and something in his stomach twists. It sounds like something has gone terribly wrong.

Mikey shuffles into view first, walking a few steps ahead of Gerard, uncaring for the way Gerard’s voice is getting higher and higher in pitch. Zero kicks his legs and squirms out of Frank’s lap, running towards Mikey, claws clicking against the asphalt and tail wagging. Mikey picks him up without a comment and cuddles him close, sitting down next to Frank with a barely audible greeting mumbled into Zero’s fur.

“Mikey.” Gerard stands in front of them, arms crossed in front of his chest and _woah_ , that is totally a big brother voice right there. It’s enough to make Frank feel bad, even though he hasn’t done anything.

“What?” Mikey snaps, glaring up at Gerard. Frank squirms and tugs the sleeves of his hoodie down over his hands.

Gerard’s nostrils flare and Frank wishes a hole in the ground would swallow him up. Gerard and Mikey _never_ fight. It sucks that they have to start now, when Frank thought that there could be more cuddling and maybe kissing once they came back.

“Uh, guys.”

Gerard and Mikey both ignore Frank, continuing to stare each other down with narrowed eyes.

“What the fuck is going on?” Frank barely refrains from waving his arms around to get their attention.

For a moment it seems like he isn’t going to get an answer, but Gerard abruptly ends the starring match and turns to Frank. His nostrils are still flaring and under any other circumstances it would’ve been funny.

“What is going on is that the little shit over there went to a random dealer,” Gerard spits.

“You. . . what?” Frank is trying to comprehend the words, looking from Gerard to Mikey and back.

“He wasn’t random,” Mikey retorts, glaring at Gerard. “Ryan knows him.”

‘Ryan’ has become a red flag for Frank and before he knows it he says: “Of course, if _Ryan_ knows him he must be amazing.”

Mikey and Gerard end their stare down and turn to Frank, who already wishes that he hadn’t said that out aloud.

“The fuck?” Mikey asks, narrowing his eyes. Now that Frank’s put his foot in he could do the sensible thing and retreat, or do what he’s done his entire life and put his second foot in as well.

“Exactly, the fuck? Who the fuck is this Ryan guy anyway and why the fuck do you go to a random dealer with him? The fuck were you thinking, Mikey?”

“See!” Gerard points triumphantly at Mikey. “Even Frank agrees!”

“Sure, just gang the fuck up on me,” Mikey huffs and scoots away from Frank, face half-hidden in Zero’s fur. “I don’t get why you’re making such a fuss. He had good stuff, all is fine.”

“All is fine this time,” Gerard sighs, sitting down in front of Mikey and putting a hand on his brother’s shin. “But what about next time? You don’t know that guy, Mikey. You don’t know if he’s always got good stuff. This. . . this is not something you can mess up and get away with.”

No matter how hard Gerard tries, it’s obvious that he’s scared. It’s enough to make it hard to breathe for Frank.

“I’m not doing this to be an asshole. I’m just worried about you, Mikes.” Gerard is so motherfucking earnest that under different circumstances Frank would’ve laughed. As it is he scoots closer to the brothers and leans against Mikey.

“What he said,” Frank mumbles, some of the tension draining from his body when Mikey scoffs and pokes his side.

“I’m not a child. I can look out for myself.”

It’s difficult to reply to that because Mikey’s got a point. Frank is glad when Gerard takes on the task.

“I know you can. But not. . . not always, okay? You promised you’d trust me with this. You _promised_.”

If Gerard starts crying Frank is out of here. Seriously, there’s only so much he can deal with. He wanted to have a _nice_ evening with the people that he might be in a relationship with. Instead he gets drama and fighting and anger boiling in his stomach.

Mikey doesn’t reply to Gerard’s statement and shrugs, focusing all his attention on Zero. Even the dog is sensing the tension, having gone still in Mikey’s arms and looking at Gerard with wide eyes.

“Mikey,” Gerard is getting more insistent. Frank picks dog hairs from his hoodie, attempting to keep his blood pressure down.

“I heard you. And yes, fine, whatever. I’ll be a good boy,” Mikey huffs. He still sounds sullen but Gerard doesn’t seem to mind. Leaning forward he presses a chaste kiss to Mikey’s lips.

“It’s not that I don’t think you can do things on your own. I’m just worried about you. I don’t want anything to happen to you. I _can’t_ have anything happen to you.”

Mikey nods and just like that they seem to be fine. Frank exhales sharply through his teeth before he struggles out from under the blanket and takes Zero from Mikey.

“I’m going for a walk.” Frank sets Zero down and walks away without looking back, holding onto Zero’s leash tighter than necessary.

Fuck the Way brothers and all the feelings he has because of them.

~

Frank has been gone for ages and Gerard is starting to fret. People are going to work, the eerily silence in the streets replaced by noise and activity.

“Gee,” Mikey croaks tiredly from where he’s curled up with the blanket. “Come sit down.”

Gerard knows that pacing isn’t going to help and make Frank come back quicker, but he can’t sit still. Mikey’s eyes are bloodshot and he looks utterly miserable, so Gerard sits down next to his brother and pulls him close until Mikey’s head is resting in his lap.

“Sleep,” he mumbles, tucking strands of hair back behind Mikey’s hair. “I’ll stay up and wait.”

“Can’t,” Mikey replies. His eyes are closed and he’s exhausted, but he rarely manages to sleep unless they score some pot.

“He’ll be back soon,” Gerard says, leaning back against the wall and looking at the opening of the alley, hand settled on Mikey’s neck, willing himself to believe his own words.

~

When Frank gets back he’s carrying a paper tray with three McDonald’s cups in one hand and holding Zero against his chest with the other. It’s enough to snap Gerard out of the dozing he eventually succumbed too.

“Fuck, is everything okay?”

The obvious worry in Gerard’s voice makes Mikey raise his head as well, squinting against the light. “Wassup?”

“What? Sure everything is okay,” Frank huffs, kneeling down in front of the brothers and letting Zero down, who shakes himself before nosing at the blanket, trying to get under it.

“The princess just got tired of walking,” Frank rolls his eyes. There are dark shadows under his eyes and his nose is red and running. In the unforgiving daylight he looks even paler than usual.

“I got coffee and hot chocolate,” Frank says, handing Gerard a cup and poking Mikey until he sits up properly.

“You done with your drama?” Frank checks, taking his drink with a nod when Gerard and Mikey make noises of agreement around their cups.

“Good. Because it’s Christmas, motherfuckers.” Frank grins and Gerard can’t help smiling back. Frank is right, it’s Christmas and they should enjoy that. Soon enough it will be January and that’s a fucking stupid month. It’ll get even colder and all the Christmas cheer and charitable feelings will be gone.

“What’s the plan for today anyway?” Frank takes the lid off his cup and licks foam from it, which has Gerard mesmerized for an embarrassing moment before he clears his throat.

“Uh, not much. Get some sleep, then go to the soup kitchen, then motel?” Gerard hasn’t thought much about it if he’s honest.

“Okay cool. So you guys not working tonight?” Frank’s face lights up when Gerard shakes his head. “Ace! Stuffing our stomachs at the soup kitchen and then sleeping in a real bed. It’ll be fucking amazing.”

Fuck, it does sound amazing. Gerard takes another measured sip of coffee, wanting to make the drink last as long as possible. It’s almost impossible to keep his eyes open now that Frank is back. Frank, who Gerard only notices now is shivering.

“C’mere,” he says, scooting over and patting the space between Mikey and him. “Better get comfy and get some sleep.”

Well used to it by now it only takes them a few moments to arrange themselves under the blanket.

“Hey, it’s Christmas,” Frank mumbles, voice slowed by impending sleep. “You should totally put out and gimme a goodnight kiss.”

An embarrassing giggle bubbles over Gerard’s lips before he knows it, but he doesn’t care. Not when he’s feeling happy and warm inside despite the freezing December temperatures.

“Hm, I guess you are right. It’s Christmas after all.”

Frank is still smiling when Gerard kisses him.

~

Frank spends most part of the day dozing. He never really sleeps because even though he’s flanked by the Ways old habits die hard. He’s always ready to jump and run and the smallest of sounds pulls him back to consciousness.

“I can’t wait to sleep in a real bed. And in a real room,” Frank croaks. Mikey hums in reply and Frank presses closer, nuzzling his neck. “With four walls. Can you imagine?” he giggles, feeling stupid and giddy all of a sudden.

On Frank’s other side Gerard snores and Frank grins against Mikey’s neck.

“Four walls and a roof and a bed and a shower and it’ll be awesome,” he mumbles to himself. Clinging to that thought makes the cold that has settled deep in his bones a little more bearable.

“Four walls and a roof and a bed and a shower and Christmas presents,” Mikey agrees, voice rough with sleep around the edges.

“I already got my presents.” Frank punctuates his statement with a kiss to Mikey’s jaw. By other people’s standards Frank hasn’t got shit. By Frank’s standards he’s a millionaire.

They stay curled up in their malformed pile for a few more hours, trying to ward off the cold and move as little as possible. Zero gets up every now and then to move around and go flop against someone else for cuddles. It’s as comfortable as can be.

“Whatssetime?” Gerard grumbles eventually, tensing against Frank’s back as he stretches before curling back up.

“Wait a sec, I’ll look at my Rolex and tell you,” Frank retorts. Through his layers of clothes Frank barely feels it when Gerard pinches his side.

“Fucker.”

“You asked for it,” Frank replies and sits up a little more, scrubbing at his eyes tiredly.

“Looks like it might be soup kitchen time though?” Frank squints at the sky. It looks like it could be late afternoon, but the bleary December sky makes it difficult to tell.

“That’s what I’ve been thinking,” Gerard agrees, his stomach rumbling as if on command.

“Aw,” Frank grins and pats Gerard’s tummy. “We’ll get you all the food you can eat soon. And then there is gonna be a motel room. With four walls.”

“And a roof,” Mikey adds, sharing a grin with Frank.

“Weirdos,” Gerard huffs, picking up Zero and tapping his nose. “Your moms are weirdos.”

“What and you’re the dad in this scenario? Dude that is so not working out,” Frank laughs, tugging on a strand of Gerard’s hair.

“I don’t know,” Gerard shrugs, scratching behind Zero’s ears. “We can be three moms.”

“Right, that totally makes sense,” Frank rolls his eyes.

“We’d be kinda like the Golden Girls,” Mikey says thoughtfully. For a second Frank and Gerard manage to keep a straight face before they burst out laughing.

Mikey huffs and purses his lips, which only spurns Frank on. Fuck, he hasn’t laughed in so long and now that he’s started he doesn’t want to stop.

“I really don’t see what’s so funny. The Golden Girls were awesome,” Mikey points out and it sends Frank and Gerard into another round of howling laughter.

“He’s not joking, you know?” Gerard gasps, clutching Frank’s shoulder for support. “He fucking loved watching the fucking Golden Girls when he was a kid. It was his favorite TV show.”

Frank feels breathless and tries hard to calm down and breathe in and out instead of another round of laughing. He barely manages and when he speaks his voice pitches high every now and then when giggles almost overwhelm him.

“Most precious, Mikey. You’re a beautifully strange person.”

When Mikey continues pouting Frank throws his arms around him and hugs him as tight as he can, pressing a smacking kiss to Mikey’s cheek. “All I’m saying is you shoulda told me sooner. I would’ve gotten you a Golden Girls shirt for Christmas.”

“Shuddup,” Mikey mutters and swats at Frank’s shoulder without much heat.

Frank grins and presses another kiss to Mikey’s cheek, gentler this time.

“You always had awesome tastes. The other kids just didn’t understand them,” Gerard adds. His voice wobbles dangerously.

“Precisely,” Mikey replies haughtily.

They sit huddled together for a while longer, Frank and Gerard occasionally giggling and Mikey elbowing and kicking them sulkily.

It’s the best Frank’s felt in a long time.

As great as laughter is, it doesn’t fill his stomach though.

“Can we go get food now?” Frank asks, rubbing his belly through layers of clothes. It almost feels like there is a black hole inside of him that is slowly expanding, hollowing out his insides.

“Yes! God yes!” Gerard groans. “Do you think there’ll be chicken? Man, I hope there’s chicken.”

“We had chicken nuggets a few days ago,” Mikey points out as he detangles himself from the blanket and takes Zero’s leash.

“From McDonald’s, yeah,” Gerard huffs. “That’s not real meat.”

“How’s –“ Before Frank can get more words out Mikey has grabbed his wrist and shakes his head.

“Don’t ask,” he hisses and Frank snaps his mouth shut. He can imagine the horror stories about McDonald’s selling rat meat and honestly? He doesn’t want to know. Nor does he care. At this point Frank would happily eat rat.

“I really want something greasy.” Frank helps Gerard fold up the blanket and with a lot of squeezing and pushing they manage to get it into their backpack.

“Let’s go and get chicken,” Gerard swings the bag over his shoulder and heads out of the alley.

“And coffee,” Mikey adds as he follows, taking Frank’s hand and pulling him to walk beside him.

“How about hot chocolate? You know you don’t, uh, react so well to coffee.” Gerard is phrasing things more carefully than he usually would after their argument. Frank squeezes Mikey’s hand, hoping that Gerard’s words aren’t going to set off another rant about Mikey being capable of making decisions for himself.

“I know. But it’s Christmas, Gee.” Mikey is full on pouting and Frank hides his grin against the collar of his coat.

The soup kitchen is swarming with activity. People stand huddled together in groups outside on the sidewalk, talking and laughing. There are Christmas decorations in the windows and the usual atmosphere of unspoken depression has been swapped for cheerful carelessness. Even society’s outcasts need a holiday every now and then where they can dive into pretense.

“Wow, that’s a lot of people,” Gerard mumbles and moves closer to Frank and Mikey. Frank barely refrains from pointing out that they won’t fit through the door walking next to each other like this.

When Frank pushes the door open a wave of warm air swaps over him and he shudders happily, standing up a little straighter.

Inside is even busier, people’s chatter forming a humming background noise. There are more volunteers working than usual, darting around and swapping empty trays of food for full ones. They must have a lot of people working in the kitchen today.

“Oh my God, this smells amazing. Seriously, if heaven had a smell it would be this. Well, if there was a Starbucks in here. Then it would definitely be what heaven smells like,” Gerard sighs happily.

Frank shares a smile with Mikey but before they can make fun of Gerard Zero starts pulling on his leash, nearly causing Mikey to fall over in the first moment of surprise.

“The hell?” Mikey grabs the leash tighter and tries to pull Zero back.

“He’s just excited to see his friends, it’s fine,” Frank squeezes Mikey’s hand and nods towards the counter where Ray is arranging a stack of plates.

“Oh.” Mikey’s face darkens as he sees Ray. He hands Frank Zero’s leash and takes a step back. “I’ll go find us a table.”

Before Frank’s got a chance to hold Mikey back Zero pulls forcefully on the leash, making it slip from Frank’s fingers.

“Fuck,” Frank groans, glancing at Mikey picking his way through the crowd before following his dog, who’s madly dashing towards Ray, dragging his leash behind him.

Unlike Zero Frank has to dodge people, which slows him down considerably. By the time he makes it through the crowd Ray is already on his knees, laughing as he deals with an overly excited Zero trying to lick his face.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Frank groans and picks up Zero’s leash, trying to pull him back a little.

“Hey Frank,” Ray smiles up at him, scratching behind Zero’s ears. “Don’t worry, I missed the little guy.” Zero picks the moment to lick Ray’s hand as if to make a point.

“He obviously missed you too.” Frank tugs a little harder on Zero’s leash. His dog remains a traitor.

“Frank. Frank, where is Mikey?” Gerard appears out of nowhere, hovering at Frank’s side.

“He’s gone to find us a table.” Frank says, looking over his shoulder and trying to spot Mikey.

“Oh. Okay. That’s cool. Not that I was worried,” Gerard mumbles. “I’ll go find him.”

“What about food?” Frank asks, quirking an eyebrow. A few seconds ago Gerard was having an orgasm over all the food.

“It’s cool, you go get food and find us and then Mikey and I can get something.” Gerard waves awkwardly at Ray before he turns and makes his way through the crowd.

“Well, that was weird,” Frank mumbles. Not that he expected anything else. “Crazy busy day, huh?” He puts on a smile as he addresses Ray. His mother would be proud of his small talk skills.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Ray nods and straightens back up, walking over to the sink to wash his hands.

“You not home to spend Christmas with your family?” Frank barely manages to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“I’m going home tonight. Still more than enough time for family craziness,” Ray shrugs.

“Yeah, right.” Frank mutters and scratches the back of his neck. Bless motherfucking saint Ray, helping the poor before he goes to frolic with his family.

“I’m gonna go eat then. See you around later. Maybe.” It’s an abrupt end to their conversation, but Frank doesn’t care. His good mood has mostly disappeared. Or rather, the brief illusion of happiness has been shattered because who’s Frank kidding? Their life still sucks, Christmas or not. They’ll have a nice night in a hotel and then it is back to the streets and nothingness.

All of a sudden Frank isn’t hungry anymore. He still grabs a tray and gets in line, the rational part of his brain telling him that he needs to eat.

Frank barely manages to force his lips into a smile, nodding and mumbling something nonsensical when the volunteers wish him a Merry Christmas.

Once at the end of the line Frank carefully balances his tray, Zero’s leash slung around his wrist and looks around, trying to spot the Ways. Gerard’s bright red hair makes it easy to find him in a crowd and Frank walks over to the table in the corner, putting his tray down carefully before he sits.

“They still have chicken,” Frank says, looking at the dishes on his tray properly for the first time. “You guys go get something.”

“Chicken, awesome,” Gerard replies, getting up and tugging on Mikey’s sleeve, raising his eyebrows when it looks like Mikey is going to refuse. “C’mon Mikey.”

With a sigh Mikey gets up and trots after Gerard. Frank picks up his fork and pokes at the vegetables on his plate before shoving a forkful into his mouth.

~

The soup kitchen wasn’t as great as he expected, but Frank is determined not to turn into the Grinch. They have all been looking forward to the motel night. Frank can be happy tonight and angry at the world for the rest of his life.

“Okay, me and Mikey are gonna get a room and distract the clerk. You sneak by with Zero and take the elevator up to the first floor. We’ll meet you there.” Gerard’s stance makes it look like he’s ready to lead an army into battle.

“All right,” Frank shrugs and tightens his hold on Zero’s leash when he whines and strains against it, trying to follow Mikey inside.

“Wait a second, buddy,” Frank mumbles, glancing through the glass of the sliding doors. Gerard and Mikey are at the counter already and Frank hopes they manage to keep the attention of the clerk as he slips inside and pulls Zero along. Frank tries to be as nonchalant as possible, not walking too fast to avoid drawing attention.

Frank makes it to the elevator without a problem, but the stupid thing is old and slow and not  
even pressing the button repeatedly makes the doors open quicker. Frank only relaxes when the doors slide shut behind him and he’s alone with Zero. He knows the chances of being caught in a place like this are low, but his paranoid mind still supplied voices yelling at him, the three of them being kicked out, needing to find somewhere else to go. Sure, there are tons of motels like this, but Frank is _tired_. He doesn’t want to move anymore, doesn’t want to drift through the city without a place to be.

Stepping out of the elevator Frank picks up Zero because the dog is already overly excited, wanting to explore. “You can have a look around our room in a minute, okay?” Frank whispers against the scraggly fur atop of Zero’s head.

Casually leaning against the wall Frank tries to look like he belongs, studying the ugly flower pattern on the wallpaper when the elevator doors open again with a ding.

“Frank.”

Frank’s eyes snap over to the elevator and he pushes away from the wall, relieved that it’s the Ways and not anyone else.

“C’mon, we’re on the fifth floor,” Gerard grins as he holds his hand over the light sensor, keeping the door open.

“Awesome,” Frank grins. He doesn’t even have to fake the cheerfulness. Thinking of a room and a shower and a bed and Gerard and Mikey all to himself is enough to release a ball of warmth in his chest. Well, it also makes his stomach flutter nervously, but that’s okay. It’ll work out. They’re in a weird sort-of-maybe-relationship that possibly needs further definition, but Frank’s got a good feeling.

Gerard leads them to a door at the end of the corridor and when he unlocks it Frank summons all his power of self-restraint and does _not_ run inside and throw himself down on the bed.

“Looks decent,” Gerard comments, dropping the backpack on the bed and stretching with a groan.

“Everything looks decent compared to our alley,” Frank points out and let’s Zero down when he starts kicking his legs. “Wait a sec,” he mutters. As soon as Frank’s taken his leash off Zero darts across the room and starts sniffing the carpet.

“True. But it’s really warm too. Not all motels have proper heating,” Gerard says, sitting down on the edge of the bed and unlacing his boots.

“It’s great,” Mikey states and drops down on the bed, spreading out his arms. It’s then that Frank realizes there is only a double bed in the room. His stomach does that weird awesome anxiety dance again.

“Now that we’re here I don’t even know what I wanna do first,” Frank muses, unzipping his jacket. He could take a shower or lie down on the bed or give the brothers their Christmas presents or turn on the TV. What is normal to other people has become an overwhelming number of choices to Frank.

“We could wash our socks,” Mikey suggests, eyes closed and idly kicking his legs against the side of the bed. “Then they’ll be dry until tomorrow.”

“Are you serious?” Gerard frowns and pokes Mikey’s stomach. “We get our awesome Motel Christmas and the first thing you wanna do is wash your socks?”

“Yes. They’re disgusting,” Mikey frowns and Frank bets he’s wiggling his toes inside his shoes.

“So are yours, for the record,” Mikey adds, squirming away when Gerard pokes him again.

“He’s got a point,” Frank admits. It’s not like they can wash the rest of their things, but clean socks would be great.

“Fine, go wash your socks then,” Gerard rolls his eyes.

“We are going to take a shower as well while we’re at it,” Mikey decides and kicks off his boots, eyebrow raised at Gerard. “You sure you don’t wanna join?”

Gerard’s bottom lip catches between his teeth, eyes flickering from Mikey to Frank and back before he shakes his head.

“Nah, I bet the shower is tiny, that’d be uncomfortable. I’ll get settled.”

“Okay,” Mikey replies easily. He leans in with the same confidence and presses a kiss to Gerard’s lip, making something inside Frank twist. He still feels like this is intimacy he shouldn’t intrude on. Before Frank’s brain can plummet into dark thoughts he’s being dragged to the bathroom and he kind of can’t think properly at all anymore.

“Socks first,” Mikey says, turning on the water and stopping up the sink.

“How romantic,” Frank mutters, but obediently takes off his shoes and peels his socks from his feet. Fuck, most of the time he manages to ignore it, but he’s disgusted by himself.

“Ew,” Frank mumbles and drops his socks in the sink, watching them drift on the water, the material only slowly soaking though.

“Ew,” Mikey agrees. “I’m not touching those.”

Frank grabs the tiny soap sample and starts to lather up his socks. “I didn’t expect you to. I wouldn’t wanna touch your socks either.”

“Mikey!” Gerard calls from the other room and Mikey rolls his eyes.

“I’m not touching your disgusting socks either, Gee!”

“Damn,” they hear Gerard mumble. Frank grins and washes his socks as best as he can.

“Fresh as a spring breeze,” he grins once he’s wrung them out and sniff-tested them to make sure they don’t need a second round of soap.

“I miss the smell of laundry. And how clothes are, like, all soft and warm when they come out of the dryer,” Mikey sighs wistfully as he drains the water and fills the sink up again, washing his own socks.

“Me too,” Frank groans, hanging his socks up on the tiny radiator. If they’re not dry by morning he is so, so screwed.

“Hey, tell you what,” Frank steps up behind Mikey, only leaning against him tentatively at first.

When Mikey doesn’t flinch Frank hooks his chin over Mikey’s shoulder. “I’ll take you on a Laundromat date.”

“A Laundromat date? You know how to show a guy a good time,” Mikey laughs, leaning back against Frank.

“Sure do. I’m a gentleman after all,” Frank grins. “We can wash our hoodies and shirts and they’ll be clean and fluffy and smell amazing.”

“Are you guys seriously having laundry dirty talk?” Gerard asks from the door, looking bewildered and amused at the same time.

“Totally. We’ve got a laundry kink,” Mikey dead-pans. Frank hides his grin against Mikey’s shoulder.

“Gross,” Gerard says, throwing his socks into the corner.

“You’re gross,” Mikey mutters, wringing his socks out and draining the sink again.

“I know,” Gerard shrugs, like it’s a truth he’s accepted a long time ago. “But I can’t smell myself anymore, so it’s okay.”

“Yeah but we have to smell you,” Frank says and Mikey nods in agreement.

“Oh my God the two of you are like the cleanliness police,” Gerard pouts. “I’m gonna go and cuddle with Zero. He accepts me the way I am.”

Frank laughs when Gerard stomps from the bathroom dramatically, calling for Zero and trying to coax him out from under the bed.

“Even Zero is hiding from the stink now that he’s taken his socks off,” Mikey chuckles, hanging his socks up next to Frank’s.

“Do you think he’ll wash his socks?” Frank asks, looking at the objects in question on the floor like they’re about to attack him.

“Probably, but then they won’t dry,” Mikey sighs and fills the sink up again. “The things I do for him, honestly,” he mutters, picking Gerard’s socks up with a pained expression.

“You’re a good brother,” Frank laughs. “Hurry up with those, I wanna shower.” He unzips his hoodie and wiggles out of it before turning on the shower, testing the water. It takes a while before it gets even lukewarm.

By the time Mikey has finished washing Gerard’s socks Frank is naked, not even wasting a second thought on being embarrassed because there is a hot shower serenading him.

“Fuck,” Frank hisses when the hot spray hits his back, eyes fluttering closed. This is what pure bliss feels like.

“That good, huh?” Mikey asks, only a soft note of teasing in his voice.

“Orgasmic,” Frank replies, standing still and letting the water pour down his body. It’s almost too hot, stinging a little on his skin, but Frank doesn’t care. He’s been cold for so long that he almost craves getting burnt.

“Make some room,” Mikey says as he pushes into the tiny shower stall and tugs the curtain shut to keep the heat in. In the close proximity Frank is suddenly hyper aware of their nakedness and Mikey’s body brushing against his. He’s fairly certain the heat flooding his face is not the fault of the water alone.

“You’re right, it’s that good,” Mikey mumbles, hanging his head and letting the water beat down on his neck, wet strands of hair clinging to his forehead. He looks open and vulnerable in a way Frank has never seen before. Craddling Mikey’s face in his hands Frank pushes up and presses a chaste kiss to Mikey’s lips. He wants to tell Mikey that he should have all the good things in the world, _deserves_ to have all the good things in the world, but his mouth refuses to form the words. Instead his thumbs press into the soft skin under Mikey’s ears. For a moment they look at each other, unspoken things passing between them in silent understanding.

It’s Mikey who moves first, blinking against the spray of the shower and putting his hands on Frank’s waist, pushing back gently. The tiles are wet and cold against Frank’s back, but the shiver running through his body is caused entirely by Mikey kissing him again, hot and possessive. Mikey’s fingers dig into Frank’s skin ever so slightly and fuck, Mikey is a good kisser. He’s. . . he’s a professional.

Frank turns his head away and draws in a shuddering breath, battling the onset of dizziness.

“You don’t. . . you don’t have to do this,” he murmurs, not knowing how to breathe when so many feelings are battling inside him.

“What?” Mikey frowns, not withdrawing from Frank’s space.

“You don’t have to do that,” Frank repeats, unable to meet Mikey’s eyes.

“I know,” Mikey’s reply is sharp and instead of taking a step back he crowds Frank even more.

“Has it ever crossed your mind that I _want_ to do this?”

Frank stills and when he answers it surprises even himself. “No.”

Mikey scoffs and Frank scrambles to explain himself. “I mean, you are kind of forced to have sex all the time and I don’t want you to feel pressured just because you think that I and. . . and,” Frank trails off, aware that instead of explaining himself he only succeeded in making himself sound like a douchebag.

“I just want to make you feel good,” he concludes lamely, watching swirls of water disappearing down the drain by their feet.

“You’re an idiot,” Mikey sighs. Frank perks up when there is no anger in Mikey’s voice and finally dares to look up at him again.

“A loveable idiot?” He asks with a cheeky grin.

“Possibly,” Mikey says and leans in for another kiss.

“If you’re quite done having a heart-to-heart other people want to shower too.” Gerard says, poking the shower curtain.

“Shuddup,” Mikey mumbles without taking his lips off Frank’s. Frank giggles into the kiss as the knot of anxiety inside his stomach unravels, leaving nothing but warmth behind.

“You know, we should save some warm water for him. Otherwise we’ll have to endure his stink,” Frank points out after a few more minutes of languid kissing.

“Hm. I guess,” Mikey hums and pulls back, blinking like he needs a few seconds to come back to reality.

“I should’ve convinced Gee to buy proper shower gel,” Mikey mutters as he pumps some of the bodywash from the dispenser. It smells slightly clinical.

“Yeah. But I guess this still smells like flowers and spring compared to our stink,” Frank shrugs. The logistics of soaping up and washing their hair inside the tiny shower stall are not easy to navigate, but Frank doesn’t complain. Being close to Mikey while surrounded by wonderful warmth is something he enjoys, even if Mikey has stupidly pointy elbows that he keeps unintentionally ramming into various parts of Frank’s body.

“Gee, your turn!” Frank calls once they’re done and he’s turned off the water. By now the room has steamed up, so even when Mikey pushes back the shower curtain they’re not met by too much cold air.

Intent on keeping his body this wonderfully warm Frank reaches for a towel right away and wraps up in it, sighing happily. He hasn’t been this content in a long time.  
“Finally,” Gerard mutters as he walks in from the bedroom, already pulling his shirt up over his head. “You’re having all the fun without me.”

“No we’re not,” Mikey shakes his head and cards a still wet hand through Gerard’s hair. “Don’t worry.”

When Mikey kisses him Gerard’s pout turns into a smile and he nods. “Fine. I won’t be long. And Zero’s already claimed a corner of the bed for himself, just so you know.”

“Wouldn’t have expected anything else.” To be honest, Frank is surprised that Zero hasn’t already wormed his ways under the blankets and built a nest for himself.

It’s colder in the bedroom and Frank shivers and pulls his towel tighter around himself. He wishes that he had a pair of pajamas to put on, flannel ones like he had when he was a kid. As it is Frank will have to settle for putting on his briefs and t-shirt. It’s going to take away some of the blissfully clean feeling but Frank is making compromises bigger than that every day.

As soon as he’s dressed Frank drops his towel to the floor and crawls under the blankets, curling up with a happy sigh. “This is awesome,” he mumbles into the pillow, giggling when Zero shuffles up to him and tries to worm his way under Frank’s arm.

“Like a fluffy cloud?” Mikey asks innocently, sitting down on the edge of the bed in his underwear and sniffing his hoodie suspiciously before pulling it on with a shrug.

“Yes. Just like that,” Frank replies and lifts the blanket when Mikey lies down. They curl up together with Zero settling between them, listening to Gerard singing in the shower.

“This is what blackmail dreams are made of,” Frank laughs. “Does he always do that?” Last time they were in a motel Frank was sick enough to sleep through all possible singing.

“Only when he’s in a good mood,” Mikey replies, his smile between fond and exasperated.  
Frank hums and closes his eyes, wishing this moment could last forever. He’s comfortable and warm and they are safe. It’s perfect and Frank happily dozes while Gerard showers.

“You guys, this is amazing. We should do that more often,” Gerard says as he emerges from shower, towel slung low on his hips and using another one to rub his hair.

“We sure should,” Frank sighs wistfully, pushing all thoughts about money and their shitty lives aside. Today they are here and he’s going to enjoy that.

“Make some room,” Gerard pokes Mikey’s back and tries to get under the blanket as well.

“Gee,” Mikey says, raising an eyebrow at his brother. “Presents.”

“Oh! Right!” Gerard half falls out of the bed again and goes to rummage in his and Mikey’s backpack.

“It’s not like, anything special,” Mikey says, briefly looking at Frank like he’s embarrassed.

“Just something for, well, mostly for Zero I guess. Since we didn’t make that much.”

“Dude, shut up!” Frank sits up, torn between anger and flapping his hands accompanied by ‘Oh my god you guys!’

“You paid for the room, that’s more than fucking enough.” It’s always Mikey and Gerard bringing the money in and it makes Frank feel like shit. If he had his guitar at least he could busk. It doesn’t make much money but certainly more than begging.

“Yeah and we do that because we want to, so don’t go on some weird kind of guilt trip, okay?” Gerard huffs and sits back down.

“What he said,” Mikey agrees. “And it’s not like we bought anything. I guess it’s more a present from Ryan anyway. I asked him to make it.” He takes what looks like a lump of wool from Gerard.

“I. . . thank you?” Frank isn’t entirely sure what he is saying thank you for. When he takes the lump from Mikey and unfolds it, it turns out to be a tiny sweater for Zero. “Dude!” Frank beams and feels like the corners of his mouth are going to crack.

“This is awesome! Thank you guys so much.” Leaning over Zero Frank pulls Mikey and Gerard into a hug.

“Now you don’t have to worry about Zero being cold anymore,” Gerard says with a soft smile.  
Frank feels a little like crying in a totally manly way. Gerard and Mikey put so much thought into the present. Nobody has wasted a thought on Frank since his mom died. Frank’s chest tightens and it gets a little hard to breathe evenly under the onslaught of _feelings_.

“Fuck. You guys. Seriously, you’re the best,” he mumbles and pulls Gerard and Mikey in for another hug, clinging on longer this time and hoping they won’t notice the way his breath hitches.

Once Frank has pulled himself together he pulls back and holds the sweater out to Zero. “Look what you got for Christmas!”

Zero wags his tail and sniffs the sweater before licking Frank’s hand and turning, demanding cuddles from Mikey and Gerard.

Not that Frank is looking forward to leaving the motel tomorrow, but putting Zero in his tiny sweater is a little thing to look forward to.

“I, uh, I got you guys some stuff as well,” Frank says, carding his fingers through the wet hair in the nape of his neck. “Nothing special or stuff, just, you know,” he shrugs and trails of, feeling slightly embarrassed. Curse motherfucking stupid money and everything costing a stupid motherfucking amount of money.

“Frank, you didn’t have to get us anything,” Gerard says, frowning. “Where did you get the money anyway?”

Frank shrugs and rolls off the bed to rummage through the backpack where he hid the presents in a bag with Zero’s food. For some reason Gerard and Mikey don’t like it when he begs. It’s not like it is Frank’s favorite pastime or anything, but it’s the only way he can make money.

Sitting down on the bed with a plastic bag Frank reaches in and gets out a music magazine. “That because Mikey’s always looking at them when we go to the corner store. And I thought it would be nice if you had something to read that doesn’t come out of a bin.” Frank puts the magazine down, already feeling stupid but reaching back into the bag nonetheless.

“And I got you a sketchbook and a pen because that collection of napkin drawings you have going on is awesome but also kind of annoying.” Frank keeps finding crumpled napkins in the backpack and it’s a shame to have Gerard’s drawings ending up like that.

Last he pulls out a King size Twix from the bag, holding it out to Mikey. “Gerard said it’s your favorite. I figured maybe this is something you’d like to eat.”

Mikey looks at the candy bar and then at Frank, who can’t quite read his look. “Frank, you didn’t have to.”

“I know. But has it ever crossed your mind that I want to do this?” Frank asks, grinning cheekily as he echoes Mikey’s earlier statement. It makes Mikey smile and breaks up the tension. Taking the Twix from Frank Mikey looks thoughtfully at it before putting it on the nightstand. “We can share it tomorrow,” he decides before picking up the magazine, running his fingers over the glossy pages.

Gerard looks like he’s going to strain something, grinning wide and happy and throwing himself across the bed to hug Frank. “Merry Christmas, idiot.”

Frank laughs and hugs Gerard back tightly. It feels good, being able to give at least a little back, make Mikey and Gerard smile.

Later when they’re curled up in bed in a tangle of limbs, their own blanket spread over the one from the hotel for extra warmth, watching the Charlie Brown Christmas Special on TV, Frank whispers “I wish I could freeze time.”

“Yeah?” Gerard asks sleepily from his right, pushing his nose against Frank’s shoulder. “I wish I could slow it down. Then we could have tonight last for, like, _years_. Or turn back time. Or fast-forward. Because eventually things are gonna get better.”

Frank smiles and doesn’t reply. They need Gerard’s optimism. Frank just wishes that he could believe in things getting better as easily as Gerard.

“If I could have a superpower it wouldn’t be freezing time. That’s lame,” Mikey comments, hooking his chin over Frank’s shoulder. “You wouldn’t get to enjoy any of it because everyone would just be frozen.”

“What superpower do you wanna have then?” Frank asks.

“Hm. Flying I think. Or teleporting,” Mikey says. Frank is suddenly very aware of Mikey’s warm breath ghosting over his neck, his body pressed close to Frank’s.

“I don’t think I want superpowers. I’d rather be able to do magic,” Gerard says. His foot twitches against Frank’s leg.

“You’re a wizard, Gerard,” Frank chuckles, poking Gerard when he looks like he wants to  
pout.

“Is that a wand in your pocket or are you just happy to see us?” Mikey adds, leaning over Frank and raising his eyebrows. How he manages to keep a straight face is beyond Frank, who is already shaking with laughter.  
“  
I’m just happy to see you,” Gerard purrs and Frank chokes on his laughter when Gerard presses even closer and he’s suddenly in the middle of a very tight Way sandwich.

Gerard bats his eyelashes at him and Frank swallows hard. Then the corners of Gerard’s lips twitch.

“You asshole!” Frank swats at Gerard’s shoulder. Great, now both Ways are laughing and he’s caught in a vibrating Way sandwich.

“I hate you guys,” Frank mutters, incapable of holding down on a smile.

“No you don’t. You love us,” Gerard replies. Frank shudders when Mikey presses a kiss to his shoulder, like a silent affirmation.

“Yeah. I do,” Frank replies after a few moments of silence. He genuinely means it. It’s a little early to drop the L bomb and whatnot, but ever since he’s been thrown out of his apartment Frank’s concept of time has been warped. There is no point in pretending that they are having a normal relationship and do things the normal way.

Gerard and Mikey, along with Zero, are the only friends in the world Frank has left. Maybe it’s what makes him feel stronger, more intense, makes it so easy to speak of love.

Frank’s only got a second to worry about having scared Mikey and Gerard away before Mikey presses closer to Frank and Gerard beams. Instead of replying with words Gerard leans in and kisses Frank. It’s still gentle, but not like before. There is possessiveness in the way Gerard’s teeth dig ever-so-slightly into Frank’s bottom lip, sucking and tugging before he crushes their lips together again.

Mikey remains a warm weight against Frank’s back, his hand idly resting on Frank’s hip, fingertips digging in.

Another shiver runs down Frank’s spine. He hasn’t felt this good in a long time.

Mikey gets impatient after a while, his hand moving up until he can put his fingers on Frank’s chin and turn his head away from Gerard. They break their kiss with a wet sound and Frank blinks. He’s not given a chance to gather his wits before it is Mikey who kisses him. Mikey’s more tentative than Gerard, but no less possessive. For a fleeting moment Frank wonders if they kiss their johns like that. As soon as the thought has crossed his mind Frank twists his hand into the front of Mikey’s hoodie and pulls him close.

All the johns can go to hell, Gerard and Mikey come home to Frank.

~

Even though the holiday cheer is gone, New Year’s Eve brings a new surge of excitement.

People break out their sparkliest clothes to attend parties all around the city, high with expectations and resolutions for the New Year.

Frank spent the past two New Year’s eves hiding away in the darkest alley he could find, seeking refuge from the world. He used to go out and party on New Year’s, staying up until late into the next day with friends, talking about all the things the New Year was going to bring. Being alone and knowing that none of his dreams would ever come true had been too hurtful a thing to face. Ignorance is bliss.

But this year things are different. Frank still doesn’t have a penny to his name, but Gerard and Mikey are taking a break in between work to come and be with him at midnight. Apparently a few hours before and after midnight are the peak times at New Year’s, when johns are drunk, or lonely, or both and seek out company.

Frank is waiting for Mikey and Gerard at a bus stop near last night’s motel, Zero in his lap as they watch the people passing by. Girls giggle and stumble in their high heels, groups of drunk teenagers laugh and yell, couples walk arm in arm.

Zero sighs and pushes his nose against Frank’s chest. “Agreed,” Frank mumbles and yawns. He’s so tired, but hopefully there will be enough desperate people tonight that Gerard and Mikey make enough to afford a hotel room. Which is kind of a shitty thing to think about because Frank doesn’t _want_ his boyfriends to sleep with other people, but right now it’s the only way they can make money.

Zero squirms in his lap and Frank looks up, spotting Gerard and Mikey a few feet away.

“Hey you,” Gerard smiles and leans in for a quick kiss. He tastes like mint and Frank wrinkles his nose. Gerard always buys mints or chewing gum for the end of the night.

Mikey’s kiss tastes a little copper-y and Frank doesn’t think about why. Reaching up he gently traces his fingertips over the right side of Mikey’s face, where the skin is red and hot under his fingertips.

“Ready for a new year and all that shit?” Gerard asks, spitting his chewing gum out and lighting a cigarette.

“Eh, I guess,” Frank shrugs. “Made your resolutions?”

“I don’t believe in them,” Gerard replies without meeting Frank’s eyes. Frank doesn’t push and they start walking towards the small square where people are already gathered. Twenty minutes left until midnight.

“I got you guys something from the soup kitchen,” Frank says once they’ve found a spot away from the crowd.

“You are a saint, Frankie. I’m starving.” Gerard reaches for the bag and takes out the takeaway carton, humming happily as he opens it. “C’mon Mikey, share.” Mikey knows better than to protest.

Frank takes Gerard’s cigarette and finishes it while the brother’s eat. Around them people are chatting animatedly and for a moment Frank almost feels normal, like he belongs.

“Ten minutes till midnight,” Gerard says when he finishes eating, looking around for a bin.

“We can throw it away later,” Frank says and takes the bag from Gerard, putting it down by their feet. Zero immediately investigates.

“Good night so far?” Frank asks and Mikey pulls a face.

“Not really,” he shrugs. “Before midnight it’s always the assholes.”

Gerard nods. “You know, the ones that are feeling miserable because it’s New Year’s and wanna take it out on a punching bag. After midnight is better, then it’s mostly just drunks.”

“So at least the worse half of tonight is over?” Frank asks, trying to find something positive about their fucked up situation.

Reaching out Frank takes Mikey’s hand. They watch the countdown on the screen and the people around in silence. Two minutes before midnight the crowd starts getting excited, pouring drinks and getting ready.

All Frank does is loop Zero’s leash around his wrist so he can take Gerard’s hand too.

“You know, I think,” he starts, trying not to feel stupid and keeping his eyes firmly on the countdown. “I think, no, I know that next year is going to be fucking awesome.”

“Yeah?” Gerard asks and Mikey squeezes Frank’s hand.

“Yep,” Frank nods and tugs both Gerard and Mikey close until they stand huddled together. “I mean, things are a lot better already.” There’s something about New Year’s that apparently makes Frank just as stupid as the rest of the world, wanting to spill his guts.

“Last year I was alone and nobody would’ve cared if rats ambushed me and feasted on my body.”

“That’s fucking gross,” Mikey points out.

“Whatever, it’s true,” Frank replies. “And now I got you guys and, you know. Maybe this year we’ll make it. Together.”

“Aw, you’re getting all schmoopy,” Gerard laughs and pokes Frank’s side playfully.

“Maybe. I don’t care. This is gonna be our year.”

The cheering of the crowd as the countdown begins interrupts their conversation.

_Ten, Nine, Eight_

“So what are we gonna do about this kissing at midnight thing?” Frank needs to yell to be heard over the noise.

_Seven, Six, Five, Four_

“Threeway kiss,” Mikey says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

_Three, Two, One_

Frank doesn’t have a chance to ask about the logistics of that as cheering erupts and fireworks begin to light up the night sky. Gerard and Mikey both lean in and press their lips to Frank’s in the most uncoordinated kiss ever.

Frank closes his eyes and smiles. He’s sure now, this year is going to be their year.


End file.
